


Not Too Far Gone Yet

by inkribbon



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, F/M, Family, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 332,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23721124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkribbon/pseuds/inkribbon
Summary: [In process of editing] - Trailer chapter for the sequel is up!Trying to come back, learning to grow things, Rick Grimes finds a police officer in the woods one day.---"So, Deputy, what do you do with yourself when you're not rescuing women in the woods?" she asked dryly.The glare he sent at her back was enough to kill. "What do you do with yourself, officer, when you're not getting shot by your colleagues?"Not taken aback, she flashed at him a smile, her lips closed. "I prowl, scavenge and kill rotters," she shot back. "What do you do?"His eyes stared at her. "I grow crops, feed pigs, and kill critters."His arm waved at a field beyond the fences, and Amanda saw crops and plants, and beside it there was a ramshackle hen house…and pigs. She barked out laughter. "I'll give it to you, Rick—" she rolled his name over her tongue, the first time saying it aloud, "you are funny."She of course hadn't bought the words even for a second. She might've been called a lot of things behind her back, but never dumb. She'd seen him gunning down those rotters, clear head shots, without even blinking.But then again if the man wanted to delude himself, who was she to deny it to him?
Relationships: Amanda Shepherd & Beth Greene, Beth Greene & Carl Grimes, Carl Grimes & Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon & Rick Grimes, Rick Grimes/Amanda Shepherd, Rick Grimes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 459
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, welcome to my new story. This's a brand new one, starting with the beginning of Season 4, Episode 1, but I changed the ending a bit, the sick kid hasn't died yet, and Daryl and others haven't returned from the Big Spot, everything else is the same.
> 
> The pairing of this story also looks like Rick/OC, but the OC here isn't a real original character, but Amanda Shepherd, the police officer from the Grady Hospital. The story will try to answer what would happen if Rick finds her alone in the woods one day, close to the prison. Enjoy.
> 
> As of September 2020; I finally started a big editing process with the help of a fellow author, DarkTidings. All kudos go to her, because she's awesome.

**I.**

His hand tied across his chest, Rick was staring at the ceiling of his cell, fully awake in the gloom when the old-fashioned rusted twin bell clock started ringing. Quickly, he drew up and reaching out, he silenced the old thing before it woke up Judith.

He hadn't been sleeping, of course. He never slept well in these days, not before his exhausted body let his over exhausted mind to shut down and catch up a reprise, and he dove into blankness more than went to sleep. Yet each night before he went to bed, laying Judith in her crib, he made sure to turn on the clock. It created a sort of routine, a pattern he needed to feel—leave the bed at six in the morning, go out, wash your face and hands, and start digging.

It was good. It was nice. It was…normal.

Until yesterday.

Now there were silent voices in his mind, trying him, and the woman's filthy face laying over the forage as she gave her last breath, whispering so lowly… _you don't get to come back…_

And Hershel's soft but absolute voice: _You came back… You get to come back. You do._

 _You get to come back. You do._ The words echoed in his mind again as Rick bent down over the crib and checked on Judith. He didn't know. So he just left the cell, walked out of C Block, washed his face and hands, and started digging.

It was good. It was nice. It was normal.

It was also escaping, of course, but Rick didn't mind. He was keeping his people fed, growing plants, herding animals, setting up snares. Carl was safe. Judith was safe. They were together. And it was enough.

Only there were still those voices in his mind, but Rick had learned to shush them down.

Violet—the pig—he corrected himself, still looked like she was sick, and what he had seen in the woods before he'd found the woman had Rick a bit wary. He didn't want to read too much over the signs, but they were there, impossible to miss. If there was a sort of infection around, they had to be careful. He made a quick mental note to talk with Doctor S or Hershel about it later.

Carl found him as he started clinching his holster around his hip after feeding the pigs. "Going out to check the snares again?" his boy asked, leaning over the wooden fences. Rick nodded, "Can I come?"

"No—" he declined again, the thought of Carl being outside still bothered him. His son had come back too, he had, but... "Daryl and the others aren't still back from the run," he continued, "They might need an extra hand over things."

Things… He shook his head a little at himself, and tucked the Colt Python back into its place, the weight hanging over his hip feeling familiar, as if…as if something clinked with him.

Rick tried not to think about it.

"They'll need more people to clean the fences today," Carl stated then, his eyes turning to the fences, and Rick followed his as well, "Can I help them with it?"

The fences were having it hard. Soon they would need to do something about, perhaps draw them away with a car and send a group out to kill the rest of it. They could—

He stopped himself before he started a plan, his eyes running over the fence. No. He wasn't doing this _thing_ anymore. No. Rick was growing shit, feeding pigs, catching rabbits. He was done with… _things_. Once Daryl came back, he was going to talk to the other man, and they would think of something.

Rick was just going to take care of his own things. And Carl—Carl was going to be a child once again, or at least tried to be. He shook his head, "No. Someone has to take care of the plants. You do that. We'll talk about the fences later." He bent down to hold his son at the shoulder and gave him a look to make his words clearer. Carl was listening to him, like a child was supposed to listen to his father, but sometimes Rick couldn't be sure.

_You came back. Your son came back._

The woman's prone figure on the earth flashed in his mind again and Rick pushed it away, walking to the fences for the woods at the east.

At the exterior fences, he uncurled the wire to untie the cut pieces together to make himself a gap, as quietly as possible as from the third tower's perimeters snarls and growls raised higher and higher. Walkers herded up, drawing each other as they kept making noises, but it also meant the other parts of the fences relatively calmer.

Turning aside, he passed through the opening, his movement still as silent as possible, and turned back again to close the gap. Then he walked away.

Over his shoulder, his messenger bag rested against his left hip as Rick felt again the familiar weight across his right hip. Almost on their own, his fingers inched toward his hip, and he drummed at the holster with his fingertips.

He stopped himself, catching the gesture. This—this couldn't do it.

You get to come back, Hershel spoke in his mind again, and Rick almost opened his mouth and shouted… No. He'd decided. He'd wanted this. Growing crops, herding animals, picking up worms and critters.

He bent down, yanked off a twig from one of bushes, and put it into his mouth, just to prove to himself. Yes. That was the life he wanted, that was the life he wanted his son to have.

 _I'm tired, son,_ Rick had told Carl months ago, even before all the things had happened, and he had meant it. He was tired. He wasn't like the Governor. He didn't want to be.

The twig in the corner of his mouth, Rick started checking the snares.

It was like the last time, with more dead animals even though there was no bite. He crouched down in front of another deer, without touching it and started looking—searching for clues. Something was happening. Every cop instinct was up, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up—something definitely was going on.

Then he heard it.

First small crunches of broken twigs over the forage, and they were getting faster… no walker. No walker made such fast noises. Someone was running.

And _that_ meant walkers.

He quickly took cover behind a tree, drawing his gun quickly. Yesterday had been enough for him. He had no business in saving anyone anymore. He should've never bothered in the first place. They took people in, yes. Daryl had brought in the medic last week, and the day before that Glenn had found someone else, but perhaps they had to stop now. They needed people, but each time they were risking something.

Almost two years now in the end of the world, and people were losing it.

So Rick just stood behind the tree as he saw it…a woman running like all hell was on her heels, jumping through the roots and logs without a flinch. She was clad in complete cop gear, down to the black matte bulletproof vest, and on her arm Atlanta Police Department's insignia was clear. Even her uniform was clean, despite her situation, aside mud-covered combat boots. Her hair— _clean_ hair— was pulled into a bun at the back of her head, a few loose strands leaving it as she ran fast.

It was odd—she didn't look like she was a lost soul in the woods. The state of her uniform had made it perfectly clear: clean hair meant settlement, settlement meant trouble, period. Besides, she even didn't look like she needed any help, either. She was a fast runner.

She held a knife in her hand while she ran, even though she had a holster wrapped around her leg: an empty holster. Rick stayed behind the tree as she kept running at other side of it, then he saw them.

A dozen or more walkers were coming towards them from each direction. Rick picked up as he swore. Her feet caught one of the roots, and she rolled over the ground and quickly fell back in a crouch and without stopping even for a second, she rose and started running again.

Okay, she was athletic with her slim body, very lithe, but there was a dozen or so walkers lunging toward them, and one of them finally caught her as Rick stepped out from the tree.

He—he just had to. He _wasn't_ saving her. He was saving himself. Walkers in these numbers also meant trouble, something he couldn't hide behind a tree.

The policewoman swirled around on her axis, slipped away from one of the walkers, and raised her knife to stab the dead in the head with a single move. Rick read standard basic training from her movements, methodical and precise. She turned aside, bent down and jumped back away from the second walker, stabbing it in the meanwhile.

"Fuck it!" she swore loudly as another came at her, "Fuck it…fuck it…I fucking hate it!"

Rick raised his Colt Python and fired at the walker.

As the undead dropped between her feet, she spun on her heels toward the gunshot, and her eyes widened. She looked at him, shock making her mouth agape a little. Up close, Rick saw even her _face_ was clean, a few spots of red and dirt over her cheeks, but she was _clean_. One learned these kind of things.

She must be around her early thirties. Clear green eyes widened as she stared at him—then she flipped aside, catching another walker lunging at her, and raising her arm, stabbed the dead into the brain.

Walking closer, Rick shot another two around her, clearing her path. She quickly moved back to his side as Rick shot at two others as she took care of another. His gunshots echoed in the woods, which was calling for even more trouble, but there was no time for knives. He wished for Michonne's katana for a split second, clear and quick, but his Colt Python worked fine, as well.

They worked together even though neither spoke one word as Rick shot the last two standing and they faced each other.

She was painted with more blood now, finally looking appropriate for the end of the world, and her hand was still holding her knife in front of her in a defensive position, alert. Her eyes were now squinted warily as she looked at him and his gun.

Yeah, Rick also hadn't lowered it. No. He wasn't taking any chances anymore.

They were a few feet apart from each other, staring at each other, still not talking to each other. Finally she let out a sigh and almost rolled her eyes.

"Do you take me for a fool?" she asked, tilting her head aside, her voice rich and clear. Her knife was still high over her chest, with her arm crooked at her elbow, and her grip on the handle delicate but precise in its form. "Colt Python has only six rounds. You're out of bullets," she declared, gesturing at the dead corpses around them, "I _counted_."

He made a noise and lowered his arm. "You're a cop," he declared, too.

"Great observation skills," she shot back dryly.

"Are you coming from the city?" he inquired further, his hand moving to his other hip, ready to draw out his knife.

She shrugged her shoulder in a way that meant both, the knife still up in the air. He took a step closer and saw two bullets at her chest buried in her vest, with no nametag. Catching his look, she flickered her eyes down too, and back at him.

"Look—" she then started. "I'm already having the shittiest day ever. I was shot at, left behind, and almost got eaten by rotters," she went on as Rick stared at her. "How about we turn around, walk away, and pretend we've never seen each other?"

"Sounds like a plan," he said back.

"Yeah—" she breathed out, her eyes flickering again at his hand with the gun, back at him, before she lunged forward. "But it _never_ works like that anymore, right?" she asked.

He stepped out quickly before the knife would slash over his chest, but it never came. Instead, she spun on her heels, kicked the side of his knee. His tendon ached as the sudden move made him drop in a crouch as he groaned in pain.

"Sucker," she muttered out, kneeing him at the stomach. Rick doubled down on the ground, dropping his gun. She quickly grabbed it, then catching him at his shoulders, she threw him aside and started running away.

Startled, he stared at her back for a second, too dazed to understand what the hell had happened, before leaping back to his feet, his side and knee throbbing with pain. Damn woman!

He was going to kill her with his own hands!

With another round of cursing, Rick started running after her.

# # #

Saying that officer Amanda Shepherd was having the shittiest day ever would've been the understatement of the year, even though it had been her own words. It was all that sonofabitch's fault. Amanda would've never, ever think to go to a supply run with that bastard. A supply run with Gorman? What the fuck had she been thinking? What the fuck?

Come to think of it, why did she keep doing this stuff?

Clearly, she was losing her mind. She couldn't think of any other better explanation.

Though, to be fair to her, they were all losing it. Gorman, the most. And he'd started getting worked up again, she'd seen bruises at Joan's arms just yesterday. She—she had to do something! He might be an absolute piece of shit, but Gorman was good for killing rotters. What they were going to do? Kill rotters and keep the hospital safe and up on its feet with seventy year old Percy?

Goddammit!

She shot a look over her shoulder to see if the man was trailing after her, but so far, she seemed fine. He probably was too shocked to understand what had happened, and Amanda had always had quick feet. When you grew up bouncing around foster homes, you learned fast how to run away quick. She was running away really quick, away from the guy—she might've called him a sucker, but she still didn't want to test her deduction further. The southern drawl, and cowboy accent, wary eyes, and killing shots, very—very clear head shots without moving an inch. Nope. Amanda didn't want to test the waters further. She even felt a pang of guilt, he—he'd helped her, but well, she needed a gun.

She needed to get back to Grady, and she could hardly do it without a gun. The gun was out of rounds, but one step at a time. First, she needed to find herself a vehicle still operational, and then she could look around.

She was really fucking hating it. Perhaps she was just going crazy. Lamson had told her so, too, but damn it, someone had to deal with Gorman. She'd thought Joan might've soothed him down. Sex had that kind of side-effect, yes? He should've been as tame as a well-fed lion, but instead the man had just turned worse! So, she'd thought a little bit of bonding in order, and what was better than get bonded over a supply run, right? They hadn't checked the funeral home, their safe home, in ages, and Amanda had thought it might've worked.

Lamson could've worked on the man, let him unburden himself, get things off his chest, and vice versa. Amanda was a _woman_ —guys like Gorman would never bond with women—vertically…but somehow she'd ended up stranded with the bastard.

And…the rest… the rest was a shitload of trouble.

She let out a hiss, still running. She was so furious with herself, that she wanted to kick her own ass.

Holding a tree, breathless, she stopped for a second, checking again to see anyone was coming after her. There was still no one. Breathing loudly, she rested her back against the tree, closing her eyes, and pulled aside the vest to breathe clearer.

The shots to her vest had taken the worst of it, but it still hurt like a bitch. Her hand went to her side, and she felt wetness over her fingertips. Well, fuck it. She bowed her head and tried to see it… her long-sleeved shirt was getting wet with blood at the side slowly. _Damn you to hell and back, Gorman,_ she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

Still holding the gun in her hand, she bent down, holding her knees, and from her left side, she heard twigs breaking… She snapped her head up quickly and twirled so that he jumped on her at her other side, thank god, driving both of them to the ground.

She was fucking, fucking hating this!

She groaned as his weight pinned her down on the ground, her vision blackening for a second. Then she raised her hips, and lifting her leg, she held his arm and threw him back with her knee over her shoulder.

She flipped back in a crouch then, holding the ground with one hand, as with the other she was forced to leave the gun down before she drew her knife from her right boot again.

He retrieved his gun back as she slowly rose to her feet, her hand this time lowered at her hips. She ran her eyes over the man, head to toe… There was something about him, something she couldn't pin down right, but something. The way he carried himself, the way he stared at her, clear blue eyes like a tempest, furious and angry, and she had an inkling that she was the reason for his fury.

She looked at him again, trying to assess. He wasn't a massive bulk of muscles. He was lean, but toned, and he'd just proved himself good on aggression. If it came to it, she would hold her ground against him, but Amanda really hated fighting unless it was absolutely necessary, and she was already having a shitty day, with wounds and all.

She wondered if she could reason with him. As furious as he was, he was still looking at her, as if he was waiting for something—perhaps waiting for her to react. She narrowed her eyes, trying to understand, and shaking her head, she just asked him, "I assume it's too late now to pretend we've never seen each other?" She couldn't help herself, her voice even sounded…hopeful.

She just wanted to go now. The man—the man…well, he didn't look like…a bad guy, not really, whatever it counted these days, anyways. But he hadn't tried to beat the shit out of her yet, so it _counted_ for something, she guessed.

Then he took a step forward and waved his arm angrily. "I _helped_ you—" he spat at her.

"You helped yourself," she shot back. "We're all food for rotters."

The stormy blue eyes nailed a look at her after her comeback, and Amanda decided to take the risk. Bending down quickly, she sheathed her knife back into her boot. "Look, I'm sorry—" She took a small step closer to him, raising her hands up in the air a little. "I just needed a gun. I was afraid," she confessed, hoping the truth would settle him down a bit. "You—you really don't look like a bad guy," she told him then. "But I couldn't take the chance. Do you understand?"

His eyes ran over her again, and he gestured at her empty holster. "Where's yours?" he asked.

"I lost it."

His eyes flickered at her chest. "What happened to you?" he inquired then.

"We were on a run with colleagues," she explained, leaving off the funeral home. No need to give him extras. "Then we got separated by rotters. I lost my partner and ended up with this guy in the woods. When we got circled by rotters, he lost it, and started shooting. I got shot in the crossfire—" she waved over her chest, where two bullets had hit her at the vest— "We got away, but I lost consciousness. And when I woke up—" she made a scoff, "I was alone."

"He left you behind?"

"Obviously," she said with a shrug.

"Where's your community?"

She raised her eyebrow. "Community?"

"Where are you holed up?" the man asked exasperated.

She gave him a look. "I can't tell you that."

He gave her a look back, too, clearly weighing her up. "Fair enough." He gave her another look, his jaw squaring under his beard, and bowing his head for a second, he pinched the bridge of his nose. And, her eyes stuck on him, Amanda watched as he struggled with a decision.

He lifted his head after a second. "I guess we're not too far gone yet," he muttered, his eyes on hers as she scowled at the words. He nodded at her and tucked his gun back at his holster. "Let's pretend we've never seen each other then," he declared, turned around, and started walking away.

From where she stood, Amanda stared at his retreating back.


	2. Chapter 2

**II.**

As Rick walked away from her, he could sense her eyes on his back, but he didn't turn back. It was the weirdest interaction he'd ever encountered. When he'd caught her again, he'd been so furious, but somehow, they'd just ended up staring at each other after a roll over the ground, both reluctant to take it further.

Her matter-of-fact apology and confession that she couldn't have trusted him even after she'd stolen from him had moved him, perhaps, her blunt honesty, the way she had uttered the reality, the reality that they couldn't trust anyone anymore. So, it was just better to pretend they'd never seen each other and walk away.

Rick was tired. He just wanted to go back to the prison, see Carl, hold Judith. She must've woken up by now. It was getting late in the morning.

Then from behind his back, he heard her again, "Wait!" He sensed an urgency in her voice this time. Rick faltered in his steps and gave out a sigh.

He turned his head aside and shot a look at her over his shoulder. She was still standing at the same place where he had left her, only her face had become a bit paler under the spots of dirt and red. When he'd seen her clean at first, he'd felt wary and alert, and perhaps even a bit jealous, but now she just looked pitiful as she swallowed, as if calling him back had taken her last reserves. Rick felt…sad.

"Um—do you know where I can find a creek or a stream or something?" she asked. Rick turned around and looked at her fully. "I was trying to find it before we met, but well…" she faltered as she explained, and shook her head, "City cop."

He pointed toward the north. "The creek's over there," he said back. "The railroad, too. Follow it."

She nodded. "Follow the railroad. Got it." She started turning to walk away, too, her hand going to her side, and Rick noticed her fingertips…blood. He'd first assumed her hands just bloodied because of walkers, but squinting at her, he saw the side of her vest had darkened wet.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, words leaving his mouth even before he'd realized what he'd been doing.

Goddammit! They were going to pretend they'd never seen each other!

She stopped and twisted aside. "A bullet grazed me," she replied. "Must've opened it while we—you know…" She made a rolling gesture with her hands in the air before holding her side again, "It's okay." She started walking away again.

"Why was he shooting at your chest?" Rick inquired, his eyebrows drawing in. "Walkers are only killed by the head." She wasn't tall, five-three inches the most, and she'd said colleagues. A cop wouldn't have aimed that badly.

The question got her steps freeze once again, and when she turned back, Rick saw her face stern. "That's the thing I'm gonna ask the sonofabitch when I see him the next," she bit off, and Rick understood. There was something else going on with her and her colleagues.

"Well, it was…nice to make your acquaintance, stranger," she said then. "Try not to die."

"Rick Grimes," he introduced himself, looking at her.

She nodded. "Officer Shepherd," she replied.

"Sheriff's Deputy," Rick said in return, and his lips curved up faintly. "of King County."

She frowned. " _Where_ is King County?"

Rick gave out this time a full smile, small but earnest. "You're really a city cop, aren't you?"

She pursed her lips. "Or just stole a cop's uniform—" she let out a small laugh, too, shaking her head, "You'd never know." She breathed out, her hand still holding her side. "Well, it was really nice to make your acquaintance, Deputy."

Rick walked closer to her, and opening his messenger bag, he took out his bottle of water and a sandwich he'd brought. She bowed her head and looked at them. "Here take 'em."

She bit her lips, and slowly reached out, then lifting her head, she smiled at him. "And here I was thinking chivalry had long ago gone extinct."

Rick gave another faint smile at the words as she stared at him and closed his eyes for a second. He cursed at himself as he asked, "How many walkers have you killed?"

# # #

The question made her stop again. This was turning from the shittiest day ever to the weirdest day. The man—Rick Grimes, the sheriff's deputy of King County, and of course he had been a sheriff's deputy, the thing she'd noticed but couldn't have pinned down.

She'd just had to stop him as he'd started walking away from her, suddenly acutely aware that she'd been missing one hell of a chance of getting out of these damn woods. God, she fucking hated the woods! Born and bred, Amanda had always been a big city girl. She wasn't useful in the wild, of course, she could still manage, but he'd been behaving like he— _owned_ the place. So, she'd just closed her eyes, and took a shot…It was really the shittiest day ever, begging for help, then it had turned into…something weird, her ending up taking water and food from him, almost—um, flirting with each other, _smiling_.

God, for a second or so, she'd even thought to give him a quick kiss on the cheek after the smile he'd given her back for her chivalry comment. Well, she'd guessed he'd deserved it and barely held herself back from raising on her feet.

But on his left hand, he was wearing a ring. Amanda also had great observation skills, and the end of the world or not, she didn't kiss married men. Period. A girl had to have standards.

So instead she'd stared at him, and he'd asked that… _how many walkers have you killed?_

"I—I don't know—" she asked back. "Do you count?"

He nodded, then asked, "How many people have you killed?"

And she frowned. "What?"

He took a step forward. "Answer the question," he told her back. "If I think it's worth it, I'm gonna take you with me," he explained.

She arched an eyebrow. "So _you're_ gonna judge me if I'm worth it?" she gritted out, getting crossed. Who the fuck did he think he was? "And who the hell do you think you’re that you can judge _me_?"

He gave her a stern look. "I'm the one who can give you a ride back to the city."

Well, when he put it like this… She raised her chin up in a challenge, staring at him in the eye. "Before or after?"

"Before?" he asked with a frown.

"I'm a cop—" she said back. "He drew his gun, but I was faster." She looked at him mockingly. "Are you gonna ask now how I was sleeping at nights afterward?" she asked further, remembering her time with the internal affairs' department after she'd killed the drug dealer, the shrinks inquiring how she'd been dealing with it… Well, she hadn't been very proud of it, but truth be told, she hadn't missed any sleep over it.

The drug dealer had been a piece of shit, but a rich one, and the rich piece of shit could hire good pieces of shit in suits. The man used to bribe his way out of trouble so many times, a part of her secretly had even felt glad—a part that she'd wisely kept in secret from anyone.

But there was no internal affairs department around anymore, so she wasn't going to take it now, but the sheriff deputy—Rick shook his head. "Happened to me once, too," he said. "He drew his gun, but I was faster."

"Before or after?"

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"Well, in that case," she replied. "Did I pass the test?"

He gave her a look, clear stern blue eyes nailing her. "We're both alive," he remarked.

"To fight another day—" she completed then tilted her head aside. "You didn't ask how many people I saved. You should've asked that too."

His eyes didn't waver from her. "How many people have you saved?" he obliged.

"Thirteen," she answered quickly without hesitation. "You see—that's _what_ I'm counting."

Thirteen lives, better or worse, she'd helped to keep alive—the rest, she didn't give a damn. Amanda was a woman who could only bother herself with what she could change.

# # #

There was a clear pride in her tone as she had uttered out the words… _you see—that's what I'm counting…_

Rick made up his mind then. He took a step closer to her and tilted his head to look directly in her eyes. "Listen to me, I'm bringing you in where my children live. If you try something _again_ —" he stressed out the word, his tone dropping into a rough rasp, an edge, a familiar edge cutting into it. "You won't live long to regret it."

She nodded in seriousness, understanding his words. "I won't," she answered placidly. "I promise."

He bobbed his head, too, his eyes still on hers. "Good—" He turned aside, gestured at her. "C'mon, let's go."

He directed her to the south, toward the prison. She walked beside him silently, still holding her side as she brought the bottle of water at her hips and tried to open it. She took a sip from the bottle and Rick heard a sigh falling out of her. He skipped a look at her. "We've got a doctor," he told her as they threaded in the woods. "He can patch you up."

She nodded again. "Thanks."

They kept walking in silence for fifteen minutes as Rick led them to the prison, warily checking out for any walkers. There were none around, and Rick gladly took it for a good sign. She was getting into bad shape, her legs stumbling more as they walked as if the toll of her day was finally catching up on her. He'd wondered if she'd been out all night, since she said she lost consciousness before. It was a real miracle she'd made it out alone like that, and the officer looked like she was also aware of that.

"Amanda—" she said suddenly, and Rick turned aside to her as they continued walking. "My name—" she clarified. "Amanda Shepherd."

Rick snorted. "Glad to make your acquaintance, officer."

In answer, she snorted back at him, then her eyes turned to him. "So, Deputy, you always wander in the woods alone in the morning looking for girls to save?"

Rick shrugged, remembering the woman from yesterday. "It happens." She arched an eyebrow at his answer. "I just got another yesterday."

"Now, really?" she asked, skepticism clear in the words.

Rick shrugged again. "It didn't end well," he shot back. "She tried to feed me to her dead husband."

She let out a sigh, shaking her head. "Life would be so much easier if we didn't have this conscience, huh?" she asked, muttering.

Rick couldn't help himself, he smiled at the sarcastic bitter words, but there was something—some bitterness in her derisive tone, something instead of putting him on alert, made him…he didn't know, frankly. But it was hard to smile these days, even though it was bittersweet. She was a sly woman, possibly a very good liar, too. He was aware all too well she'd maneuvered the topic away from her co-workers and how she had ended up getting shot at the chest expertly.

And he was bringing her to the prison where his family lived.

# # #

"The prison?" Amanda stared at the compound that lay behind the fences with widened eyes. "Do you live in a prison?"

The sheriff's deputy shrugged. "It's a good place to hole up," he said. "The fences protect us, and give us room to grow plants and crops, and we got watch towers, bars."

"And guns—" Amanda supplied, her eyes wandering around the perimeters.

Rick twisted aside and gave her a hard look. "And people who guard them—so don't think anything."

She let out a sigh, walking toward the fences. "We already talked about it before. I got it. If I try anything, you will kill me."

From the right side, to the west, the tale-tale snarls and growls reached her, and she lifted her head and looked up at it. Rotters were gathered in front of the fences outside as she picked up people stabbing them through holes. Quickly, she counted six or so people, and she tried to locate all exits and gates. She wasn't planning to try _anything_ —she'd gotten his message loud and clear, hard stares and cold words, but it never hurt to be cautious.

And of course, he caught her doing it. His eyebrows drew in together with annoyance. The man seemed like he had a liking to frown, his expression always wary even when he smiled.

But he had a good smile, all things considered, she might even say he was…a fine specimen with all of his beard, dark untidy curls, bushy eyebrows, his worn out shirt's first buttons open, walking with a definite, manly swagger, the southern cowboy, the sheriff of the town, his gun at his hips, and his _ring_ at his finger, Amanda reminded herself before her thoughts got carried away.

She gestured at rotters at the fence. "Looks like you got a problem over there—" she commented.

Turning her to other side, he led them towards an opening in the fences, where they'd tied it with wires. He started uncurling them. "My people are handling it."

She looked at him again carefully, the sheriff of the town… it was so obvious what he'd been before she wondered now how she could've missed it. Cops always had that thing, Lamson used to tell her, something she apparently had been lacking even before the turn. She had the same tough exterior, had the same cold authority, but without her uniform no one would've thought her as a cop.

It used to bother her much, perhaps because she was just _too_ pretty to be a cop, as Lamson also used to tell her. Well, she was pretty, and sometimes she really fucking hated it. Suddenly her fears caught her again, recalling how she'd used to get afraid whenever someone called her pretty, wanting to go hide under the bed, wishing she could've been a bit uglier in her childish mind, believing she would've been safer that way.

That year she learned one of her friends in the home—a girl who wasn't as _pretty_ as her- had been abused for months by their foster parents. She'd heard later the sorry excuse for a man had _chosen_ her friend just because of that, because he thought it could've been safer that way, since the pretty girls always got more attention for abuse from the social workers, and Amanda had learned one of her first lessons in life.

Never take anything for granted. Anything could happen to _anyone_. No one could ever be safe. It'd been a good lesson indeed, and it stuck with her since then.

She shook herself out of the memory and focused on the moment. It never boded well, remembering her childhood, and she had other problems now.

The deputy gestured at her, and she passed through the hole he opened for them and asked him the thing she had been wondering. "Are you the leader of your people?"

The way he talked, saying _my people_ or how he stated he was going to decide if she was worth it to take the risk, as if no one else could've questioned his judgment. The words weren't even boastful, just matter-of-fact, and Amanda knew leaders when she saw them. She just hoped he wasn't in the league of Dawn.

Then she thought of Gorman and pushed it back away from her mind as well. No, that was a thought for another time. First things first. She needed to get back to Grady, and then a lot of people were going to have a lot of explanations to make. "No—" Rick answered her inquiry, cutting through her musings, tying the opening back tight with the wire, "We got a council. They run the place."

"They—?" she asked, arching an eyebrow skeptically. "You're not in that?"

"No—" he only said, and Amanda squinted her eyes at him, but the man ignored her. Finishing up with the fence, he started walking towards the second fence line.

This time there was a door, held closed with a padlock. He got a ring of keys out of his pocket and opened it. For a man who claimed not to be doing the running of things, he seemed to have a lot of _keys_. At the hospital, _only_ Dawn had the keys. She sensed a sub-story underneath, and decided to probe him a bit, do a little bit testing… She wasn't going to spend a lot of time with these people, but she supposed she could stay overnight, get back on her feet, and old habits died hard indeed.

"So, Deputy, what do you do with yourself when you're not rescuing women in the woods?" she asked dryly.

The glare he sent at her back was enough to kill. "What do you do with yourself, officer, when you're not getting shot by your colleagues?"

Not taken aback, she flashed at him a smile, her lips closed. "I prowl, scavenge and kill rotters," she shot back. "What do _you_ do?"

His eyes stared at her. "I grow crops, feed pigs, and kill critters."

His arm waved at a field beyond the fences, and Amanda saw crops and plants, and beside it there was a ramshackle hen house…and pigs. She barked out laughter. "I'll give it to you, Rick—" she rolled his name over her tongue, the first time saying it aloud, "you _are_ funny."

She of course hadn't bought the words even for a second. She might've been called a lot of things behind her back, but never dumb. She'd seen him gunning down those rotters, clear head shots, without even blinking.

But then again if the man wanted to delude himself, who was she to deny it to him?


	3. Chapter 3

**III.**

She must've been the most annoying woman he'd ever met, so much that as she laughed at him, a part of him wished he'd just left her in the woods, as the other wanted to kick her ass.

So, it was really _funny_ they had started walking again inside the perimeters, passing through the second fence. _I'll give it to you, Rick, you are funny._

He wasn't funny. He was tired.

She shot a glance at the fields where his crops were growing and the pigs in the wooden pen next to it, but didn't say anything else. Even though her tongue stayed silent, her eyes told it all. Walking to C Block's yard, his head bowed, Rick ignored it.

She could think whatever of him she damn well liked. He wasn't interested in anyone's thinking. He—he wanted to—his fingers tapped at the butt of his gun, and he stopped himself again, remembering how furious he had been when she'd taken the gun from him—as if—as if he'd lost a piece of himself. That was bothering him even more than losing the gun.

His Colt Python had been with him for many years, even though he hadn't been carrying it for months after he'd given up on being a lawman. But the thought of losing it… No. It'd been unbearable. Unacceptable.

He opened the last fence that led them into C Block's yard. Getting closer, seeing it, her steps faltered, widened green eyes looking startled, as they roamed around taking everything in.

Rick felt a surge of…pride washing him over. The state of her—looking impressed as she stared at his…home, the home Rick had built, had fought for, and almost had lost.

"You did this?" she asked, her tone impressed as she twisted to look at him, turning away from the prison yard. Rick nodded, opening the gate for her. "How many people do you have got?"

He frowned, shooting a look at her. "Okay. Got it," she said, before he could say anything. "Won't ask questions."

As she looked around, Rick looked for Carl. He hadn't seen him in the field he wasn't inside the yard, either. He never sat inside the cell blocks, especially when the weather was this nice, so Rick got started—worried… Looking around, he saw looks directed at them as people slowly realized he brought someone inside.

It was Daryl who walked to him first from the open kitchen, holding up a bowl in his hand. His keen hunter eyes quickly assessed the female officer beside him. "Neecomer?" he asked, stopping a few feet away from him as she turned to look at Daryl, too.

Rick nodded. "We met in the woods. She got stranded from her people."

Daryl gave the woman another lookover, his eyes staying a second longer at her vest this time, Rick noticed. "Are ya a cop, too?"

She gave out a small snort and opened her mouth. Rick was sure for another snide comeback for their observation skills, and he beat it to her. "Yes," he cut in and asked directly, "Where's Carl?"

Daryl hesitated for a split second, and Rick felt his jaw tense on instinct. "Um—" the hunter hummed uncharacteristically, "—saw him at the fences with Tyreese—"

Rick hissed out angrily, turned on his heel, and started marching to the fences. He heard footsteps behind him. Looking back at the policewoman over his shoulder, he barked at her, "Stay there!" He pointed at the yard and yanked the gate open, after unlocking the padlock as she exclaimed behind him.

"I don't know anyone there!" she cried out and hastened her steps to catch him as he pounded the pebbles under his cowboy boots, stalking to the fences.

"What's happening?" she inquired, catching up with him, but Rick ignored her again as his eyes caught Carl at the fences. The boy was holding up an iron bar, stabbing it through the fences, first at the legs, dropping the dead down to his level, then stabbing them in the head.

He quickened his pace even faster, anger running through him like molten lava, and common sense taking its leave of him—the scene. He breathed out in fury. They—they didn't do _this_ anymore!

They—they grew shit, fed their people, led a normal life!

"CARL!" he shouted as Carl startled at hearing him and turned to face him.

"Dad?" he asked as Rick stopped in front of him.

Carl's eyes flickered to the policewoman. "Who is she?" his son asked, as if to change to topic, and Rick ignored the question. The woman looked confused, but Rick ignored her, as well.

"What are you doing!" he rasped out instead, anger roughing his tone so curtly, it even hurt his throat. "I told you to take care of the crops!"

"I don't want to take care of that shit anymore—!"

"Carl!" Rick shouted, his frayed nerves firing at his language. He—he was losing it.

"I want to help—" Carl continued, not backing down, his head shaking. "They need _our_ help, dad."

Rick shook his head. "No! Go back to the pigs!" he hissed out.

Carl shook his head back at him. "No. I want to—"

He closed his eyes for a second, hanging on the last piece of his sanity that remained to him. "Carl—" he started, before he felt a light touch at his forearm and heard a low utterance of his name.

"Rick, I—I think—"

Rick swept around and faced at her. " _You_ —stay the fuck away from this!" he lashed at her, his hand pointing at her as Carl turned away, his expression cold, and walked away toward the fields.

Her eyes widened in shock, and the officer stared at him, as if Rick had grown a second head.

Without another look at her, Rick turned around and started walking away, as well.

# # #

As she stared at his back, still in shock, Amanda decided it was just the shittiest and weirdest day ever, all together.

But what the fuck had just happened?

Why the hell he'd lost it that much, she had no idea, but sensing again the sub-story, Amanda decided wisely to heed his words, and stayed the fuck away from it.

Yep. No need to get…tangled with these people, and their…substories. She already had enough on her plate as it was. Truth be told, she was even getting bored of it. All she wanted to do was go back to Grady and have a talk with Gorman. She wondered what Dawn would've said this time when she learned Gorman had left her behind as rotter food.

If their highest ranking officer was even a bit smart, she should care. Amanda was one of the few people who still preferred her to Gorman. Then again, that didn't say much. She would've preferred even a scarecrow as a leader instead of Gorman. Not that Gorman was begging to take the lead anyways, not when Dawn let him do almost everything just to keep him happy, but Amanda was getting more afraid.

God, she was really fucking hating it.

She needed to go back.

Without a sigh, she turned and started climbing up the gentle slope, holding her side again. She lifted her head up and saw the sun high up in the sky. It was around noon now, and she got a feeling that she really was going to need to stay overnight in this place. Somehow, she was beginning to think it wasn't a good idea anymore.

Grady was as much as a madhouse like this place, but at least it was her own madhouse. She knew how to tread carefully at the hospital. Here she was in uncharted waters, and what had just happened was a clear indication that she had to be careful.

God, the look he'd given her when he'd spat at her to stay the fuck away from it—whatever it was. _Nope_. Amanda really didn't want to get involved, gladly would've stayed the fuck away from it, if only he hadn't been the only living soul she knew in this place.

So, she padded after him silently, sighing tiredly. God, there was really nothing she hated more than drama. A part of her wanted to spit at him 'drama queen'. The boy—his boy, obviously—was killing a few walkers, quite well, in fact, and suddenly the guy lost his shit.

She sighed again, seeing him waiting for her in front of the gate so that she couldn't get locked out. One hand was braced at the thin steel frame as he held the keys with the other, looking at them with his head bowed.

Plain and simple…Amanda repeated in her mind. How she missed it—her life…plain and simple, boring, just the way she liked it. Now, instead, she had to deal with this.

Briefly, she wondered where the Mommy was, and why she wasn't handling this whatever it was. She guessed the wives were supposed to be…a bridge... over stuff like that, between father and son, but so far there was no one around.

He looked at her, lifting his head as she approached, and lowered his arm to allow her to pass by "I—what—" he started as she walked through the fence gate, but she cut him off.

"No. It's okay," she said quickly. "You don't have to explain. It wasn't my place. I didn't mean to…mingle with your business. Sorry if it seemed that way."

First, he frowned at her words, then slowly nodded in silence. "Let's get you checked out," he said, after a brief pause. "Then we'll talk."

Right. Talk. Yeah.

She wondered if he could spare her a car to drive back to the city but somehow she doubted it. He could drive her to the nearest town, she supposed, and she could pick up a vehicle there on her own. It seemed like the best option.

As they walked back to the yard, Amanda checked around her again, the feeling of being impressed coming at her back. She—she was impressed. They'd managed to put up a good—how he'd said it—community here, something like a town. And everywhere there were people, she couldn't even be sure how many—but she was quite certain it was more than fifty.

Managing this many people at the end of world, providing for them, and keeping them safe? She saw elderly and children, as well, and a handful of fighters with guns, easy to spot. She was impressed. This might be hard as hell, but they had managed it.

At Grady, there were less than thirty of them, half of them cops, trained soldiers, and they couldn't have managed even half of what these people seemed to set up. She wondered what secrets lay underneath, what sort of secret deals and sacrifices to maintain it, but she didn't ask, and she wasn't supposed to wonder, either. Nope. She was staying the fuck away from it.

Eyes trailed after her as they walked slowly in the yard, _looking_ at her as they understood the deputy had brought someone into their folds, or they thought.

A short grey-haired woman in her late forties stood in front of them and smiled at her warmly. Amanda stared at the woman.

"Rick, who's this lady?" the woman asked, and Amanda thought for a second if she was the Mommy, but the woman's tone was lacking the jealousy behind the words for such an inquiry toward a husband, only an intense curiosity. She also looked older than him, as the deputy seemed to be in his late thirties, but one would never know for sure these things.

"We met in the woods this morning," Rick answered placidly, and Amanda understood nope, she wasn't his wife. "She's gonna pass the night."

"She won't stay?" the woman asked, arching a greying eyebrow, her eyes skipping at her.

Amanda stayed silent. "No," Rick answered.

Well, he seemed to be in as much of a hurry as she was to send her away. She almost snorted and saw that the woman's eyebrows drew together even though she didn't make a comment.

"Where's Doctor S?" he demanded then.

"Karen isn't feeling well," the woman answered. "He's with her."

"Hershel?" he asked further.

"He's inside with Beth. They're trying to put Judith down for a nap—" the woman stopped, giving Rick a pat on his shoulder, as if she pitied him, and said before she left them. "She's having one of her days."

Amanda wondered if Judith was supposed to be the _wife_ …and wondered why those people were trying to put her down for a nap, and why the woman felt sorry for Rick because of it. Perhaps his wife had lost it—lost her shit. That would explain his—state of mind, as well.

She stopped herself.

She _didn't_ care.

It wasn't her business.

After a look at the woman's back, Rick let them inside the prison block, lettered with a big, black C. Before the turn, Amanda had been inside prisons a few times, and each time, she'd hated it: the bars, the cells, being stuck in a place, the feeling of being trapped.

The feeling hit her the same, despite everything: the grey, filthy walls, the bars, the cold metal, the gloom. It was chilly inside, despite the sun outside, as if no sunlight would breach into this world, and bring a bit of warmth.

A tremor passed over her, and Rick's eyes cut over at her. "Ya okay?" he asked, and she nodded.

Then she heard cries…at first from afar, faintly coming toward them, and they grew louder as they approached the hall that held the cells. She realized what the grey-haired woman was talking about… A baby. A baby was crying.

There was a _baby_ inside this prison.

What _the_ _fuck_ these people were thinking?

Seriously?

Rick hastened his pace, she padded after him dutifully, and they entered into the hall.

There was an old man, who was supported with crutches that were rested against a metal table as he sat on a chair. One of his legs was missing from the knee down as he watched a long, lean young girl with blonde sunshine hair and wide blue eyes hold the baby over her shoulder, trying to calm her down, pacing over the hall.

The young girl stopped, seeing them walking toward them. "Oh—" she said, and smiled at Rick. Her smile made her even more beautiful as she greeted him. "Hey, Rick."

Amanda wondered if she was the wife…she seemed too _young_ this time, barely seventeen or eighteen, but one could never really know about these _things_ , though there were no rings at her fingers. Then the girl's doelike blue eyes found her, and smiled even further, hopping the baby in her embrace between cries. "Hello—" the girl said, and instead of asking who she was, she introduced herself. "I'm Beth."

She blinked. "Um—I'm Amanda," she said then, holding up her hand in greeting.

The girl—Beth—walked toward them and started giving the baby to Rick. "Look here who came, sweetie…Daddy's here, right, daddy?"

It was stupid…a baby…in a world like _this_? She must be only six or so months old. What the hell he had been thinking?

Then Rick took his baby from the girl—or wife—or whatever, and held her close to his chest, rocking her back and forth. And for a second or so, under the barred window they were standing near, a beam of sunlight suddenly crept inside the gloomily air and fell on them as he bowed his head and placed a soft kiss on the baby's head.

# # #

Rick gave Judith a kiss, breathing her baby scent in, feeling a calmness filling him, too. His anger and other things he couldn't exactly name or understand was vaporizing with it. He'd made a mess of things again, losing his temper, behaving like a mad man.

Over Judith's shoulder, his eyes were drawn to the woman who had gotten a bite of his temper with Carl, remembering the way he'd barked out at her. She brushed it off expertly again, but this time Rick felt glad. He wasn't in the mood for any talk with anyone, especially with someone he barely knew.

She got winded after that, too. He watched her climbing down the slope slowly, with something akin to resignation, and her brazen, brash exterior had dimmed. She claimed she was having one of the shittiest days ever, and Rick knew he wasn't making things easy for her, either.

She was right on that part. It didn't work like that anymore.

But now she looked surprised, and looking at her, Rick understood the reason. Most of the time, if anyone really knew what having a baby meant in this world, they got surprised seeing Judith.

Rick had tried to stop being bothered by it. Judith and Carl were the reason why he still kept breathing, but he was really getting tired of it. "Amanda—" He called her name for the first time, and somehow it sounded familiar over his tongue. "Yes, I have a baby," he told her and gestured with his head to the table. "Now sit down."

Her head snapped at him, hearing the words, and whatever the withdrawal she might be feeling after she'd declared she hadn't meant to…mingle with his business vanished as her eyes flashed at his mocking words.

Rick kept his stare on her, and with a contained sigh of annoyance, she turned and went to sit down at the table in front of Hershel. He turned Judith in his arms, wrapping his arm over her tiny waist, and propped his baby girl at his chest before he started explaining. "We met this morning in the woods," he said, "She's wounded. Her co-workers shot at her—"

She lifted her head, and stared at him. "He doesn't need to listen to my life story," she bit off, and turned to Hershel. "Two shots to my vest. It hurts when I'm breathing." She started summarizing her situation as Rick frowned at her. "Possibly got a few bruised ribs, but not cracked. And I got a graze from another shot, and it started bleeding. So, it'd be really nice if you can spare me some bandages and antibiotics."

Hershel shook his head. "We don't have antibiotics."

That made her even more surprised than seeing Judith as her eyebrows got lost over her hairline. "What happened to the meds at the infirmary?" she asked.

"We used them," Hershel answered simply.

"What?" she laughed out. "You lost a war or something?"

Rick stared at her. "We didn't lose it."

Her eyes switched to him, finding his, and understanding slowly lit in her green eyes as both Beth and Hershel looked at her, too. Only Judith making small baby noises disturbed the sudden silence. "Um—" she said after a while. "Bandages would work, too. I'll deal with the rest when I get back to the hos—" she stopped suddenly, and cleared her throat. "When I get back to my people."

Giving Judith back to Beth, Rick walked closer to her. "Do you live in a hospital?" he asked, standing above her. Her head held high, she looked at the wall, ignoring him.

Rick leaned over the table in front of her and caught her eyes. Meds. They were low on meds after the Governor's attack, low on antibiotics, and they have elderlies. "Which one?" he rasped out, moving even closer. "I helped you, dammit! Talk to me."

Her eyes flared, and she snapped her head back to glare at him. "You _chose_ to help me. I _didn't_ force you to anything! If you're looking for something back now, I'm leaving."

She stood up and made a move, but he caught her and pushed her back at the chair. "I'm not looking anything back, I'm asking… _nicely_ —" he told her. "Can we—can we trade?"

She looked at him again. "Trade?" she repeated.

"Yeah—" Rick said. "We give you something, and you give us something back."

She shook her head. "You don't know my superior. You don't have _anything_ for her to convince her to give you meds."

"We've got guns."

"We've got guns, too. Lots of them," she fired back. "The locations of secret caches in the city came from the chain of the command before the city fell," she said. "We've been digging them out in the city for two years. So, don't think _anything_ ," she shot his words back at him.

Rick caught her vest and yanked her closer at him. Her face distorted with pain at his sudden move, and Hershel almost made a move from his chair. "You're a damn good liar!" he seethed out at her. "How come you got guns, lots of it, and you somehow ended up stranded in the woods without one?"

She fumed. "I'm not lying! I told you I lost it."

"Yeah, so you go to supply runs with only one handgun while you got guns, _lots of them?_ " He pulled her vest closer, and shot her words back at her, too, "Do you take me for a fool?"

In answer, she fought against his hands, trying to get herself free. She finally pushed off his grip, and Rick let her go. She drew back to the chair and crossed her arms over her chest. " _Fine_. I lied," she bit off. "Still it doesn't change a damn thing. Dawn would _die_ before she accepts giving you her meds. You don't know her."

He leaned over her again. "And you don't know _me_."

"I'm getting the idea," she snapped. "I grow crops, feed pigs, and kill critters, and threaten people who _trusted_ me in my spare time!"

Rick hissed, breathing through of his nose. He stared at her, anger firing in him, for what he didn't even know anymore. Hershel was standing again, resting against his crutches. Closing his eyes, Rick inhaled—and let a deep, laborious breath out.

He opened his eyes and drew back. "Hershel, tend her wounds—" he ordered, and turned to her again. "We'll leave you at the nearest town the next morning. Then you're on your own."

"Fine," she bit off again as Rick walked away.

# # #

The old man with crutches tended her ribs and the bullet graze in silence after the damn man had left. The girl held the baby in her arms, the baby silently wheezing, and Amanda felt…at a loss, sitting in her sports bra in front of two strangers she only knew by name.

What the hell was she doing here? Why had she even come anyway?

Why had she trusted him in the first place?

Well, the answer was easy and simple. She hadn't wanted to be alone in the woods, and he really hadn't looked like a bad guy—but… _I guess we're not too far gone yet,_ she recalled his words in the woods, having a whole different meaning right now.

Amanda Shepherd wasn't an idiot. There was some serious shit going on with him, and all her instincts were screaming at her that she should run away as quickly as possible and continue to play with the devils she _knew_.

He was inconsistent, swinging back over a wide spectrum from the farmer to…a torturer. For a moment or so, she really thought he was going to hit her—try to make her talk, but then he got his shit together, barely. Amanda saw the struggle clearly.

These days were harsh ones. They were all losing it. She knew Dawn was still beating the wards when she lost it. She knew Gorman had started forcing Joan for sex. She knew O'Connell was abusing elderly. She knew it all…

With this guy, everything felt a wild card.

No. She needed to get back to the devils she knew.

The old man stood over her after he was done with bandaging her. "I'll send you something to eat, then you can rest. Beth will show you where you can sleep. We give D Block cells to our…guests."

Then she was alone with the girl as she kept jiggling the baby in her arms to calm her down. She wondered if they left her as her guard, but Amanda wasn't sure. She was just looking like…she was hanging around. A few minutes later, a small girl brought a tray for Amanda and left it on the table.

Amanda started taking bites from something that looked like a stew, just to settle down her empty stomach. She hadn't eaten the sandwich he'd given her, and suddenly she felt very glad of it.

And the baby just wasn't stopping. She let out a sigh and looked at them. "Where's her mother?" she asked, and paused, she didn't have a ring but…well… "Are you not-?" She looked at the young girl.

Beth started laughing, sounding like little bells tingling, and Amanda for a moment or so felt jealous for anyone who could still laugh like that. " _Me_?" Beth replied. "Oh no. It was Lori." Then her expression lost her amusement. "We—we lost her." She paused, "Childbirth."

Ah.

Well, she guessed it could explain Rick Grimes, Sheriff’s Deputy, and his mental shit, but well… God. Having a child in this world, and to die in childbirth. She looked at the poor baby and felt…sad.

And the baby was pursing her lips so much, Amanda just couldn't help it. All in her frankness, Amanda wasn't one of those girls fascinated with babies, because they reminded her too much of things she preferred not to think about. But if there was something she couldn't stand more than babies, it was _crying_ babies.

And Judith Grimes just right at the moment was fitting in that second group.

She _couldn't_ take it anymore. Turning to Beth, she grumbled. "She's got gas. Why don't you ease her belly?"

The young girl gave her a dirty look. "I'm _trying_ ," she said and shook her head, muttering. "Just because I take care of her, everyone thinks I'm a super nanny or something."

The way she said it made Amanda laugh, which made her glare at her even further. "Sorry—" Amanda said, and standing up she sighed. "Here. Let me help you."

The girl was skeptical. "Do you know how?"

Amanda sighed again. "Let me try. What would we lose?"

She brought up the baby over her shoulder, and slowly, very, very slowly as her ribs complained about the baby's weight, she started massaging the baby's back with circular movements like she had used to do many times before. Slowly the baby girl's wheezing turned to little breaths, and then into snores.

"Oh my god!" Beth gasped. " _You_ got her to sleep!"

Giving the young girl a look over the baby, Amanda smiled. "Here—take her. My ribs…hurt like a bitch."

Beth quickly took the baby and darted inside a cell and came out alone as Amanda sat down and started eating again her now cold stew in _silence_.

"Thank you."

Amanda nodded without replying, throwing another bite into her mouth.

"How did you learn to do that?" Beth asked.

She shrugged, mincing over her bread and swallowing. "Spent a lot of time taking care of babies when I was a child."

Beth smiled again. "Big family?"

Amanda shoveled another morsel into her mouth and swallowed it down too, "Nope. Foster homes."

There was a sudden brief silence like each time someone learned she grew up in foster homes, but Beth quickly recovered. "Are you going to leave tomorrow like Rick said?"

She laughed bitterly. "You mean like he _ordered_?"

"My dad would talk to him if you want to say a bit longer," Beth replied. "Your ribs really looked bad."

She shook her head. "It's fine."

"We can say _you_ coaxed Judith to sleep," Beth continued as if she hadn't said anything. "I think _I_ need you here."

This time Amanda let out a real laugh, and it really hurt like a bitch, so she held her side. "You just hurt me—" she said, "and I mean, _literally_. I thought you wanted me to stay because you liked _me_."

"Well, anyone who could get Judith to sleep deserves my undying friendship."

Amanda smiled again, taking a sip from the water. "I need to go back. My people need me."

Her expression turning serious, Beth nodded. "Rick—he isn't always like that. It was…hard for anyone."

Drawing back in her chair, after finishing up with the meal, Amanda took her white tee shirt with APD's insignia over it and put it back on. "He said he isn't your leader, but he keeps giving orders, and everyone listens. How did that happen?" she inquired.

"He's our leader, even when he doesn't want it. He keeps us alive, keeps us together. Without him, we couldn't be here, either. My father says sometimes we all have to go for a while, but Rick wasn't too far gone." Her eyes snapped up at the girl, hearing the words. "He came back."

Did he? Amanda wasn't sure anymore, but the girl sounded certain in her conviction, so Amanda only nodded.

Nope.

She was _still_ staying the fuck away.

# # #

She didn't see him again, even when the sun set and Beth brought her to the D block, and she went into the cell they prepared for her. She lay on the bed alone in a cell and slowly fell into sleep.

In the morning, it was Beth who came to find her, holding Judith, "Rick is waiting for you outside." The teenager flashed her a smile. "Remember we can still tell him the miracle you did."

She smiled back at the girl. "I hope to see you again, Beth, someday," she said and bent down to give the baby girl a kiss on her hair.

"So do I, Officer Shepherd," Beth said as Amanda left the cell.

Out at the yard, she looked around, but couldn't see him. Finally, her eyes wandered far enough, and she spotted him in his field, digging in the dirt.

She started walking down toward him, and even though he saw her approaching, he didn't raise his head from his work. He wore an old pair of earphones in his ears, listening to music as growls and snarls from outside the fences had grown even worse.

When she stopped at the fences circled the wooden pen, looking at the pigs, he finally straightened, taking off his earphones. "You need to do something for those rotters," she said as a greeting, gesturing at the fences with her head. "The fences wouldn't take it long."

"I know," he said back, taking off his gloves. "We will."

"Daryl and Michonne are going out—" he said then, even though Amanda had no idea who they were supposed to be. "They will give you a ride to the nearest town."

Understanding that he was delivering her to the others, Amanda smiled, almost bitter, keeping a snort inside her. She gave him a nod. "Okay."

Then from his back waistband, he drew out a gun, a Glock 17, and turning its butt in her direction, he extended it out to her. "Here take it." Bowing her head, Amanda stared… "It's dangerous out there. You can't go without a gun."

His words echoed in her mind, her eyes suddenly prickling, and she had no idea why… _I guess we're not too far gone yet…_

And Amanda realized, Beth had been right. He had come back. He might be struggling, but he was going to manage. She just knew it.

She took it, smiling, and said, "Thank you," and she meant it. "I wish I could help you—" she started but he cut her off.

"But it doesn't work like that anymore," he finished. "I know."

And no, it didn't. But still… she had to give something back to him… a simple thank you didn't seem enough. It just didn't. She looked at him, the southern cowboy, struggling but finding his way. She was staying the fuck away, going away, but—

She rose on her toes and quickly kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for proving to a girl the chivalry hasn't still gone extinct, sheriff," she whispered before she pulled back and turned around to walk away.

Then she heard the screams.

# # #

Rick stared at her back as she walked away, the feel of her lips still tingling over his beard, the sudden, quick, and _unexpected_ kiss, throwing him off completely. Perhaps she did it just because of that, making her dramatic exit…

Then Rick heard the screams.

"Rick!" Daryl shouted at him from the inner yard. "Walkers in D!"

Rick started running.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV.**

Whirling around, Amanda heard the man shout at Rick— "Walkers in D!"

Rick was running back like mad as the words rang in her ears… Walkers in D… D Block where she'd just left Beth and the baby a few minutes ago.

Amanda thought about it for a split second before she drew the Glock she’d just received and sprinted after the deputy. She braced herself as her bruised ribs screamed painfully in protest.

"Beth and Judith leave D with you?" Rick shouted at her, looking back over his shoulder as she ran after him.

She shook her head, "I don't know!" Hearing her answer, he sped up even more as gunshots started echoing in the air along with the screams. Ignoring her pain, Amanda forced herself to go faster.

She _could_ run faster…if only her ribs would let her! She wondered if rotters just attacked after she'd left the block, or they were there all along in the night—the whole night while she slept like a moron.

She pushed the thought away—no need for those thoughts now. She was alive and kicking.. There were people who needed help: a little baby and a young girl who had been very friendly to her without any real reason. She knew if she didn't _try_ to do something, her conscience would never give her relief afterward.

So, gritting her teeth, Amanda sped up, still ignoring pain firing in her, and caught up with Rick below the watch tower. She saw his son coming around it. A young woman was also standing in front of it.

Rick twisted aside as he ran, pointing an arm at the boy. "Get in the tower with Maggie," he shouted at his son. He continued as the young teenager opened his mouth. "Don't argue, go!"

Amanda passed him by as he’d slowed his pace for a second talking to his son. Seeing her advancing forward, he caught her back. "Get behind me!" he rasped out as they passed through the open gate into the yard, his hand moving at his hip, Amanda noticed.

For a moment she thought to shoot back that _he_ should get behind her as she was the one who had a gun, but the next second she saw him reaching to his hip again, looking for his gun, the gun that wasn't there. Anger and dismay crossed over his features.

"Take it—" Amanda handed her gun to him even before she knew what she was doing. Faltering in his steps for a second, Rick looked at her. "It's your people," she said.

Quickly, he nodded, and took the gun from her. "Thank ya."

She nodded, taking out her knife as they ran into the yard. They saw Beth outside, looking alert and agitated as she held the crying baby in her arms.

"Beth!" Rick screamed as Amanda felt a surge of relief washing over her at seeing them alive. "Are you all right?"

"Yes—we both are. We left D after Amanda did," Beth answered at same time as an Afro-American woman with a little bun at the base of her neck cried out, barging inside the yard from the block from the left side— "Rick!"

There were two other men at her heels carrying guns. "We locked the gates to the tombs," she briefed him, coming closer, and Amanda understood once again Beth was right. Rick was the leader even though he didn't want it. "Hershel's on guard."

"What about C?" he asked as they all ran toward D Block.

"Clear."

Rick twisted aside. "Beth. Get in C. Lock yourself in—" He turned back to the other woman. "What happened?"

"I don't know,” she replied. “It isn't a breach. Just heard the screams."

They climbed the metal staircase that led to the block and Amanda stared… The block—the cells… all was in an uproar now. It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes she'd left the block in peace…and in one piece, she added in her mind, seeing people laying on the ground, bitten and eaten alive.

It just never ended. Just fifteen minutes before another massacre started.

Children were screaming much like grown-ups in terror and panic, some of them even in pain. Rick lunged forward at the staircase where people flooded down from the second floor and rushed them out of the cell block. "Move!" he shouted at them. "Get out of here!"

He moved to the corner, taking cover, raising the gun she'd handed him, and ordered his people. "Check all of 'em. Every cell."

He turned to her then, pointing at the flood of people still trying to escape. "Amanda, get them outside."

She nodded and started herding them out. They advanced into the hall as Amanda waited at the door, holding her knife high, and staying alert for any possible attack as people ran outside, mostly children and women.

Rotters started coming out of the deeper parts of the hall as Rick and his company moved further, checking every cell. Gunshots echoed in the air, and she heard "clear" shouts start coming up after a few minutes.

The block was almost emptied, only a few people lingering behind, running, limping, and lurching toward the entrance where she was still stationed to watch over. Rick ran back toward her and halted beside her. "They got out?" he asked her, looking around.

Amanda nodded. "Yeah.”

He nodded back and moved to the staircase to climb the second floor. This time Amanda followed. Up there was the guy with the crossbow she'd seen yesterday, the one who had called Rick first from the blocks. From everything in how the man handled the situation, Amanda understood he was Rick's right-hand man. "Daryl—" Rick called him as they came up.

The rough man turned to them. "We're clear…" he said. "But we got deaths."

Rick gave another nod before they started checking the cells. There was a young girl inside one of the cells, barely in her twenties. Amanda closed her eyes for a second as the man with crossbow bobbed his head. "I got her—" he told Rick, and Amanda wondered it was for Rick's sake.

Another half nod and they moved to another cell. It was clear…then another, and she saw a young man lying on the ground, his stomach half eaten. Rick stared at the dead body, his head tilted halfway down before he tucked the gun he’d taken from her into his back waistline. He slowly took out his knife. Daryl, the crossbow man, came out of the other cell, holding a bolt in his hand, and they shared a brief glance with each other before Rick crossed the threshold.

Amanda watched him through the bars as Rick knelt on one knee at the ground, his hand rubbing over his eyes and his forehead before he stabbed the man in the back of his head.

Without a word, he stood, walked out and passed them by at the door, shaking the knife clear of blood. His head was bowed, still staring at the knife, and Amanda had never seen anyone looking more tired than Rick Grimes at that moment all in her life.

# # #

Towards the bar the walker who once had been one of them lunged, feverish with the smell of blood and fresh meat. Looking at his blood covered face pressed against the bars, Rick shook his head. Catching him from the other side, he yanked it closer and stabbed the dead man in the brain.

Everything… everything was fucked up.

No matter how much they tried, how much they fought, or how much they protected, _they_ always found a way to get in. There was no escape from it. Rick looked at the young man, now laying behind the bars, once again feeling like a failure. Death was always here for them.

His hand went to his hip again on instinct and found only empty air. The gun he’d taken back from Amanda was still at his back as he had no holster. His jaw throbbing, he looked over at her as she stood beside him silently, looking at the body behind the bars. Without her, Rick would've been running around in this chaos without a gun today. She gave up her own protection, the gun _he'd_ given her himself just a few moments ago, saying it was his own people. Still she’d come with them and helped his people to run away.

"What's that?" she suddenly asked, gesturing at the dead man. "His face… What happened to him?"

His expression stiffened, Rick turned to Daryl. "Call Doctor S."

Death… It was everywhere. There was no escape.

# # #

"I've seen this before,” Rick explained, gesturing at the bloody face, where blood streamed from his eyes like a mockery of tears stains. “There was a walker outside the fences—" he continued. They were inside the cell around the dead body. Rick had barely talked to the man a few times in the past seven months, but he was still one of his own, his people. And he was dead now. "No bites, no wound. I think he just died," he said further and lifted his head at the doctor. "Any guess?"

"Respiratory aspiration," the doctor replied and clarified when they gave the man blank looks, "Choked to death on his own blood. It causes an internal lung pressure to build up—like if you shake a soda can and pop the top. Only imagine your eyes, ears, nose and throat are the top."

"I rather not—" Amanda muttered, grimacing. "Is it an infection?"

"From walkers?" Tyreese inquired further, looking away from the body. The doctor shook his head.

"Yes, and no. It's an infection, I think, but not from walkers. It's possibly pneumococcal, mostly likely an aggressive flu strain."

"Like swine flu?" Amanda asked with a frown.

"Deadlier, it seems," the doctor answered.

"I had a sick pig, and it died quick," Rick informed further, sighing. "Saw a sick boar in the woods."

They were all silent for a while, realizing what it meant, and then the doctor confirmed it. "In any case, all of us here were possibly exposed,” the man remarked. “We need to isolate ourselves now and wait."

"For what?" Rick asked, narrowing his eyes.

"To see if we'd get sick," the doctor said placidly.

# # #

She couldn't fucking believe it.

Shittiest and weirdest weren't even beginning to cover how her short residence with these people had turned out.

She was possibly in the middle of another contagious outbreak at the end of the world, after she'd spent a night in a cell that a rotter had been feasting in next to it.

Amanda was sitting on one of the benches in the front yard. What had happened was still too fresh in her mind, so she couldn't stay closed up in the blocks. She was stuck in this place. They'd also decided to prepare a quarantine for the sick people in A Block. So far, she'd only heard about two people going into the block. With any luck it would stay that way, too.

Outside the fences, Rick's boy and the other woman started coming into the yard, too. They were carrying an Afro-American woman with dreadlocks between them as the woman hopped on one leg.

Absently, Amanda wondered how the woman managed to keep her hair style that way. Dawn would certainly like to know. Beside the tactical advantages, their control freak leader hated when their hair got undone, so the female officers with long hair were ordered to put it into a bun all the time or cut it short. Even at the end of the world, one was supposed to keep up appearances under her tenure. She supposed that was Dawn in a nutshell, always keeping up appearances.

And it was funny what her mind chose to stay focused in the middle of another possible epidemic. She bowed her head, mostly to make sure they would pass her by silently and leave her the fuck alone. Then she heard the boy shouting, "Dad!"

She lifted her head and saw Rick coming out of the blocks from the other side. His son started running to him. He raised his arm to stop the young teenager— "Carl—stop!"

But it was too late. The boy jumped on him, hugging him tightly around the waist as Rick sighed and hugged his son back. Despite herself, Amanda smiled at the father-son moment. "Carl—don't—" Rick said a second later, pushing away from the boy, "We shouldn't… There's an infection. We shouldn't get close. We might be exposed."

The boy walked backward, looking at his father. "Are you okay?"

Rick nodded. "We lost people, but we're okay."

"How many?" the woman with the injured leg asked.

"Twelve so far—" Rick told them. "But we put Karen and David in quarantine. They weren’t feeling well yesterday. They might be sick too." He paused, giving her a look. "What happened to you?"

"The horse got spooked. I fell," the woman explained. "Carl and Maggie helped me."

"I—I used a gun, Dad—" the boy told him then. "I didn't mean to, I swear. I just had to."

"He saved me—" the woman with dreadlocks said, her voice taciturn as Rick silently gave a little nod. Amanda refrained from snorting. Rescuing the damsels in distress must be in Grimes' bloodlines.

"Go into C Block," Rick instructed them. "It's clear."

They nodded and started to move inside. Rick watched them until they vanished behind the door after climbing the metal staircase. Turning away, he walked to her side.

He stood in front of her. His hand went behind his back, and he pulled Glock from his waistline. "Thank ya," he said, handing the gun back to her, giving her a tilt of head for an extra measure beside the words.

With a shrug, Amanda took it back. "It was yours anyway."

"If you still want to go," he told her then. "I can spare you a car."

Looking at him, she smiled a little, tired smile, lips closed. "Still can't wait to get rid of me, huh?" she asked, standing up from the second row on the benches. "Even at the risk of spreading another disease to the human population left?" She stepped down at his side. "And here I was thinking you started liking me."

The look he gave her held no humor. Instead he was deadly serious, staring at her. "You know what I mean."

She let out a sigh, letting it go. "I know—" she said. "I can't go back. Not before I'm sure I'm not infected. I can't risk it."

He nodded. "You can stay as long as you want," he told her. "You're always welcome here now."

She looked at him, arching her eyebrow. "Am I?"

"You fought for us today," he answered her. "I won't forget it."

He was still staring at her, clear blue eyes keenly on her, and she felt—awkward, the urge of running rising strong in her. She didn't like it. As the silence lingered between them, he turned after a while and started walking away—and she suddenly found her voice again. "Rick—" she called out to him.

He turned and looked at her. "You—" she said then, words leaving her mouth. "You need to stop it."

"Stop what?" he asked her, as if he hadn't understood her, which was bullshit. He was far too smart for that.

"You know what I mean," she repeated his words. "I know it's not my place, and I'm sure you've got your reasons, too, but you have to stop it. This isn't helping anyone."

It wasn't, and he was deluding himself, so he had to stop it, because his people needed him. Amanda had seen it. She also had seen what happened when people gave up fighting, gave up struggling.

But Rick shook his head. "I—I followed that path once, screwed up so many times." His voice thinning, it almost broke, and for a moment or so Amanda felt something pinched in her chest at his tone. "I almost lost my boy."

"I know lost boys," she told him calmly. She knew lost boys, lost girls. She'd seen so many of them even before the end of the world. "Your boy isn't one. He's still trying." Like his dad, Amanda had seen that, too. "I—We've got this guy at the hospital. He was trying too. Then one day, he gave up. Stopped struggling. That was when I started getting worried."

In silence, Rick only looked at her. "Beth told me you're their leader even when you don't want to be." She continued as he kept looking at her. "And she was right. You can tell _whatever_ stories you want to tell yourself, but it doesn't change the truth. You _are_ their leader. That's a _fact_. When all hell broke loose this morning, there was only one name I heard being screamed out."

As if on a cue, from the fences, his name was raised again, and Amanda shook her head. _"RICK!"_

"My point exactly—" she said, bowing her head.

"Rick—" the crossbow guy shouted. "Fences!"

# # #

It just wasn't ending.

Drawn to the gunshots, more walkers had gathered up outside the fences, trying to slip into the living side.

From behind him, he saw Amanda following him again without a word as Rick tried to put her words out of his mind. He was damn aware what she had meant, and also aware that he’d been having one of his most meaningful _talks_ in months. He wasn't even sure how it’d happened. He'd just said one thing, then she'd said another, and it continued.

Everything was going out of control. Rick didn't know what to think, what to feel, but a part of him, perhaps the last sane part left to him knew that she was right. Daryl told him he'd earned his time off, but the other man was calling him out to the fences now.

When they arrived, he took one of the iron bolts that were hung on the fences and started killing walkers.

Simple. Almost as simple as digging dirt…

_Stopped struggling, and that was when I started getting worried…_

Rick understood; struggling was good. It meant they were still…human.

And he also understood another thing too. There was someone with her people that she was worried over, possibly the same man who had shot her then left her behind in the woods.

His eyes darted over to her as she took a bolt, too, and started killing walkers. Her face was completely closed off now, aloof as if she were doing the most normal thing in the world.

In these days, it was probably true.

The fences creaked loudly, protesting under the weight of the dead, and with screams all around them, they started pushing it back. But it was no use, he already knew. They had to stop.

He needed to stop.

Deeply exhaling, Rick walked back, and called them back, too, raising his arm. "Move back. It ain’t working." He turned to Daryl. "Daryl, get the pick-up. I know what we need to do."

# # #

He was doing what he needed to do.

He took out the last pig at the back of the pick-up as Daryl drove, drawing away the walkers, saving their home…

He was stopping now.

He cut the pig—blood splashing on his face—running over his face, sprinkling on his chest, bathing him. He swallowed, his head bowed, looking at the pig—the poor animal he fed with his own hands for months, and now sacrificing her for his family.

He wondered if that was also struggling.

He threw the pig off as it screamed, and Rick drew back. He rested his back against the metal frame, his hand rubbing blood over his face. He lowered his hand and stared at it…blood on his hands… again… Then his eyes rose, and he saw her at the fences beside the wooden pole they’d been trying to support, looking at him.

They shared a look as walkers feasted on the pigs.

# # #

He gave Carl his gun back before he burned the wooden hen house.

 _No more kid stuff…_ _No more wishing about leading a normal life…_ This was their life. They were struggling, but they weren't giving up.

"Will you let Carol do it?" Carl asked. "Let her teach the kids knives and guns?" There was astonishment in his boy's voice as he asked.

Rick shook his head. "I don't like it," he answered, "But I won't stop it."

He couldn't. He just couldn't. That was the real world they lived in. In which he had to sacrifice what he fed with his own hands to protect his family _. Rick, you can't just be the good guy and expect to live._

He knelt down and clinched his holster at his hip, feeling the familiar weight anchoring him down to the earth. He watched as fire consumed the wooden pen. Then he took his bloodied shirt and threw it into the flames.

# # #

They were still outside on the benches in the front yard, with Beth holding a board in her hands, declaring eight days had passed without an accident. Without a trace of doubt, Amanda knew what kind of accident had happened eight days ago. There was only one kind of accident now that made them feel this level of despair.

Amanda wondered where the girl had found the board but didn't ask. She also didn't ask who of them that they had lost eight days ago. "They say I'm exposed, too," the young girl muttered. "They took Judith into the administration office, but I couldn't get in."

Amanda didn't know what to say to that, so she only said, "I'm sorry."

"Carl's with her—" Beth replied. "He'll keep her safe."

Amanda nodded. They were having a full lockdown. The ones who had been exposed were having the blocks, with the sick going to A Block. There were still only two of them, thank god. The rest were taken to the administration office where they could be isolated.

Aside from them, the yard was empty now, and Amanda felt glad.

She was seeing fires from the fields, and she knew what that meant.

Rick was burning the hen house.

There was that pinch at her chest again, her eyes moist, so she shook her head. "Eight…" she said lowly, staring ahead. "I don't remember us having anything more than fifteen, at tops."

Beth raised her head. "Once we saw thirty—" she said with a rueful smile. "It was the last week—" she pointed with her head below. Flicking her eyes down, Amanda looked at the numbers again. "He—He was my boyfriend…I think."

"They were going out on a run—" the teenager continued. "I didn't say goodbye." She paused. "I—hate saying goodbyes."

"Me too—" Amanda muttered.

"I didn't cry—" she whispered. Amanda bit her lips, "I hate crying now," Beth said, suddenly resting her head over her shoulder as she turned the numbers and found the zero. Amanda heard silent sobs then, and slowly, hesitantly, tentatively she did something she’d never done before. She wrapped her arm over the young girl’s shoulder.

"How many—how many died, Amanda?" Beth whispered out.

"Twelve—so far."

She gulped, "Are there—are there any children?"

In answer, Amanda stayed silent, couldn't bring herself to answer the question. But she didn't need to, either, because Beth understood what her silence meant, too.

"I want a drink—" the girl stated out of the blue. Amanda turned her head to look at her. "I've never drunk anything before, do you know? My dad doesn't let us. But sometimes…in times like these I feel like I need a drink." Her eyes lifted at Amanda. "Funny isn't it?"

Amanda heaved a sigh loudly. "A single drink wouldn't do it. In times like these…you need _lots_ of drinks."

"Buy me one one day?" the girl asked, still looking up at her.

"Sure thing," Amanda replied without missing a beat, before they both fell into silence, staring ahead.

# # #

After he washed his face and changed into another worn out shirt, Rick looked in the mirror and made his decision. He couldn't let this go on any further. He had to know.

Outside at the yard, Rick found her sitting at the benches again, but this time with Beth, their feet resting on the first row as they sat on the second. Amanda's arm was wrapped around Beth's shoulder, as the young girl rested her head on Amanda's shoulder.

Rick knew then he'd made the right decision. She was one of them now. Things happened fast in their life now. Living in constant life-death situations, people grew close to each other in the most unexpected manners. The proof of it was just sitting across him at the benches as Beth held her board in her hands. Rick knew the teenager had turned it to zero once again.

Zero days without an accident.

Another thing he couldn't let go on any further. They had to have numbers there. Long, big numbers, not short ones like this. He'd promised. He'd promised to Lori he was going to put it back. He was going to keep them safe.

He walked to them. Beth didn't raise her head from Amanda's shoulder, but Rick saw Amanda's back straighten seeing him, her head lifting up. "We need to talk," he announced plainly and motioned at her with his head to follow him.

She gave him a look at first, her eyes narrowing, and in answer Rick stared at her silently. Then slowly, she untangled herself from Beth as the younger woman watched them carefully. Amanda stepped down beside him from the second row. "What is it?"

He pointed at the metal staircase that led to C Block and walked toward it. With a small sigh, she followed him. At the staircase, she sat on the steps in the metal cage as Rick stayed on his feet, holding the metal railing with one hand.

He leaned down over her, and started with a voice soft but certain. "I'm gonna ask you a question, but I want you to answer it _directly_ ,” he continued before she could open her mouth, and warned, “No elusive answers, no topic maneuvering, no dry retorts. Just yes or no."

She raised her eyebrows and frowned. "What're you talking about?"

"Just say okay."

"I'm not following you."

"You do—" he shot back, not buying it. "Just say okay."

She gave him a look, her eyes staring at him as Rick only looked at her back. "Okay—" she said after a little while.

"The man who shot you, who left you behind—" Rick said, before he asked, "Is he the one you started getting worried about after he stopped struggling?"

She stayed silent after hearing his question, before she let out a deep sigh, shaking her head. "Rick—you don't need to worry—"

"Just yes or no—" he cut her off, repeating his words. "I just want to hear yes or no."

She drew back. "You're—"

He leaned toward her further. "You told me to stop it, Amanda, and I'm stopping—" he told her. "Tell me. Is he the one?"

She gave him a brief nod then, and said, "Yes."

Rick nodded back. "Okay." He paused for a second, then held her eyes again. "I don't think you should return there," he finally stated.

She shouldn’t. He couldn't let it happen. Good or bad, she’d fought for them, stood with them, talked with him, sat with Beth. He didn't want her to endanger herself. He didn't know what was happening with her people, and he didn't care. He just wanted her to stay in the prison with them.

"What?" she whispered, looking at him with widened eyes. His words seemed like falling short on her.

So, Rick repeated. "I want you to stay here with us."

Her eyes glued on his, she kept looking at him in silence, and Rick did the same. Suddenly it felt once again like they were in the woods, staring at each other silently, both reluctant to take it further, though Rick wasn't sure of where this time, so he just kept staring back at her… Then the metal door yanked open, and his name rang out into the air—

" _Rick!"_

Rick snapped his head up at Carol who appeared above them at the gate to the cells, "Rick!" Carol cried out again, seeing him below at the staircase. "You—you need to see this!" she exclaimed before she dodged back inside, leaving the door open.

As he started climbing the steps quickly, he saw her giving out a small smile before she pulled her up at her feet and started following him inside.


	5. Chapter 5

**V.**

Following him toward the backyard, Amanda had permitted herself for a little while to imagine how a life in the prison would be like. She'd been stunned, completely speechless to hear that he was actually _genuinely_ worried for her well-being, that he cared.

That he wanted her to stay with them so she could be safe. For a second or so she really thought about it, too, spending the rest of her life here with these people under _his roof._ A life without Gorman, without Dawn, no more trying to deal with sonofabitches, no more worrying…

Then she’d taken a step out to the yard, and reality had come back like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her. To think that she could’ve ever lived like… _that_. She couldn’t even remember if she ever slept her back turned on a door. No, Amanda always slept facing at the door, prepared. Anything could happen to anyone, but Amanda wasn’t going to get caught unawares.

Or she thought. She looked around the backyard, a sinister voice inside her mind still barking crude laughter at her own naivety, calling her a sucker as she wanted to slap herself senseless.

Sometimes she really never learned her lessons.

The thing Rick had _needed_ to see was a murder scene; two charred burned bodies lying on the ground.

The man was bulky, a mountain of muscles in despair and pain. There was that short grey-haired woman that had called for Rick was agitated, the same woman Amanda had wondered if she'd been the wife first. The woman Amanda couldn't remember her name. Had she ever learned it?

To think that she _really_ thought even for a split second that she could live here in peace and safety without even knowing people's names! When had she grown this stupid! She knew next to nothing about this place, these people, and the bodies in front of her were another clear indication of that.

Nope. Grady was still the devil she knew, her own madhouse. She knew the hospital inside and out, knew her every dirty little secret, her every little dark pact, all her little dirt to the last piece. Grady was her own turf.

There were also people she'd fought to keep alive, thirteen people she'd saved one way or another, and she _wasn't_ going to leave them to the mercy of Dawn or Gorman. No one would ever say behind her back that Amanda Shepherd was a quitter.

Next to the grey-haired woman, there was the crossbow man. This time she remembered the name: Daryl.

The mountain of muscles' back was turned to them as they looked at the man. Amanda could taste anger and grief on the man even from where she stood a few steps behind Rick.

Rick was closer to the man, his head bowed, apparently taken aback from the sight as well, his earlier brazen certainty leaving its place to a respected deference for the man's suffering.

All in frankness, it wasn't anything professional, the occasions like these usually called for a hard-cold authority to handle men like him in anger and grief, but she wasn't going to get in Rick's way. This was his turf. Amanda was _just_ a strayed passenger who he brought in his home for a night, then got stranded.

"You found them like this?" Rick asked from behind the man, still staring at the bodies on the ground.

The man's shoulders shook. "I came to see Karen,” he started with a soft, low voice, breaking. “I was bringing her flowers—and I saw the blood on the floor—"

Amanda's eyes flickered toward the ground. Even through her cold hard reality check, she felt a pang of sadness fill in her chest as she caught the sight of the flowers that lay scattered over the blood stained ground between the bodies, their bright yellow color clashing with everything else around them. She couldn't even remember the woman's face, but it wasn’t important. No one deserved to have their lives end like this, even at the end of the world. But that was also life, even before the end of the world.

It was never fair. Never.

She felt anger too, cutting through her. She knew there could be a lot of reasons for a murder, but she knew why these people had been killed. To prevent the spread of the sickness. It was so obvious she didn't even need to ask—survival of the fittest, and the sorrow turned to bile in her throat. She felt so sick, she almost threw up.

The man's despair turned even more to anger as he bellowed, "And I smelled them!" he shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "Somebody dragged them out here and set them on fire. They first killed ‘em then set ‘em on fire!"

Brazen with fury, the man turned around and advanced on Rick and the deputy took a quick step back from the man's angry assault.

"You're a cop—" the man barked at Rick angrily, his face distorted with his fury and anguish. "You find out who did this, and you bring ‘em to me!"

Amanda wasn't sure if this was a good idea. Moreover, the man was losing his control, walking up on Rick even closer. "You hear me! You find them out and bring 'em to me!"

The words were directed solely to Rick as if Amanda, who was _the_ police officer with a uniform and all, wasn't even there. She wondered what Dawn would've thought about it, and then checked Rick to see if he was reaching out to his hip to prepare himself as the man took another step in.

But his hands stayed the same, so she hadn't reached for her gun, either, but inched her hand closer toward her hip just in case as Daryl walked toward the man.

"We'll find out who—" the crossbow guy started telling the man, putting a hand on the angered man’s shoulder, but the muscles just shook his hand off angrily. He turned to Rick again. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

"No—no—" Rick said, as Amanda turned aside to the gray-haired woman, sensing shit was going to hit the fan fast.

"Get out—" she whispered at her. The woman quickly nodded and ran inside as Rick reached a tentative hand out, careful not to make a contact as he tried to calm the man down. "I know what you're feeling," he told the man in shared grief, and pointed at his chest. "I've been there. You saw me there."

Amanda darted a look at him, wondering if he was talking about his wife. There was grief in his voice too, leaking off each word, but the man was deaf to hear any of it. Amanda thought it was useless. The man’s grief had blinded him to reason. She inched her hand closer. Rick's eyes skipped to her for a second, and he raised his hand in the air to warn her not to.

She shot a glance back at him. They shared it for a split second before Amanda pulled her hand away. Okay. It was his show now. She did what she could have.

Daryl came back to the man, trying to hold him again. "A’right, man, let's—"

The mountain of muscles swirled around, catching him and drove him back against the bars with his brazen fury. This time, Amanda unfastened her holster on her leg, but Daryl flailed his arms, stopping them as Rick rushed toward them fast.

"Look, man, we're at the same side—" Rick’s right-hand man said with his heavy Southern accent, his words roughened even worse because he was caught by his collar. Rick got closer to the man's back, his hand reaching out. Amanda then took a sidestep.

She had no intention of getting between them. She could’ve helped if they did it with her own way, but not like this. Besides, this was Rick's problem, not hers. She could help them with rotters anytime, but perhaps she just should draw the line there. She took another step back and put a safe distance between them and herself.

Rick’s eyes moved toward her for a second, understanding she was retreating, and Amanda pretended not to notice it and watched the scene instead. Rick turned back to the grieving man.

"Hey, I know what you're going through. We all lost someone, but you need to calm down," he started telling man again. Amanda from afar almost snorted at the words, only to placate, and yeah, he seemed to lose the love of his life, they got it, turning him into a mess, growing shit and feeding pigs in the apocalypse… They _got_ it. Amanda suddenly felt bored with it, really fucking bored with it.

The mountain of muscles seemed to feel just the same too, because as Rick touched his shoulder, he swept around and turned on him furiously. "You need to step the hell back!" the man shouted at Rick, pushing him back.

Rick stumbled back on his feet with the push, then getting his balance back, he gave the man a look from under furrowed brows. A look Amanda recognized all too well. Trying to keep his cool, Rick was getting angry. "Tyreese, she wouldn't want you being like this," he murmured, though, still trying to keep his cool, but Amanda knew even before the muscles raised his arm angrily it was the wrong words.

The man, Tyreese, threw a punch at the left side of Rick’s face. Rick stumbled down on the ground on one knee, holding his face where blood started dripping.

Well, she’d warned him, but he decided to deal with it like this. His choice.

He raised his head, one hand still on the ground, and blue eyes held a tempest again as he stared at the man. Tyreese punched him again, hard, where he was crouched. For a second, Amanda feared the man was going to take another swing at Rick, but before he could do anything, Daryl jumped on the massive, bulky man’s back, catching his arms in a bear hug.

"Hey—it's enough, man," he told Tyreese as Rick got back to his feet and touched his face again. He bowed his head and looked at the blood at his fingers…

Then it happened. Something switched in him. She could even see it in his deranged face, hair wildly tousled from the punches he'd taken, and Amanda for the first time saw the real Rick Grimes and understood what all people had been talking about.

He marched on the man and threw a fist at the man’s face with such vigor, the massive man flew out of Daryl's arms. He landed on the ground as Amanda watched it with an open mouth. Rick walked to the man again and kicked him so hard that it slid the man a few feet away over the ground. The man—with all of his muscles—he was twice Rick’s size, and Amanda had _never_ seen anything like this.

 _I guess we're not too far gone yet—_ his words echoed in her mind as he hovered over the man. Bending down, he started punching the big man lying under him with such zest, frightened he would kill the man, Amanda lunged toward him at the same time as Daryl did.

Both of them grabbed a hold of him from behind. Half leaving the man, Rick fought with them instead, trying to pull himself free from their grip. "LET GO OF ME!" he screamed at them, raising his head up as he drew up a little from Tyreese.

His hand pushed Daryl first, sending him off, twisting his wrist as Amanda tried to hold him within a choke hold around his neck. The next he turned aside, holding her arm. He threw her off over his shoulder like she was nothing. Her back hit the ground in front of him, her vision blackening with pain as his hand caught her throat. He was bent over her, his fist raised—

Amanda closed her eyes, trembling, waiting for the impact—but it never came.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw him staring at her, his wet dark curls falling over his forehead. His blood covered fist still held up in the air, his other hand at her throat. She tried to swallow through his tigth grip, couldn't even move. No one was moving, Daryl staring at them in the same way, the grieving man crying over the ground, beaten to a pulp as Rick just stared at her.

Then he pulled back to his feet, stumbling, and without a word, staggered inside the cells.

Amanda just lay on the ground.

# # #

"This's gonna be sprained at least a week—" Hershel told him as he cleaned his knuckles, Rick wincing with each dab of the cotton soaked with antiseptic. "Good news, none of these cuts need stitches."

Rick made a noncommittal sound. The Greene family patriarch gave him a look as he dabbed again one of his knuckles lightly. "You okay, son?"

No. He wasn't okay. He was far from it. "It hurts—" he only said, as Hershel swabbed again.

"I wasn't talking about the hand—" the old man replied, taking his hand and started wrapping it with bandages. "We just went through something terrible—" He paused. "Did you talk to her?"

Rick shook his head. From the yard, he’d retreated to the infirmary where he could find Hershel, as he couldn't go to C Block. She would go to D, so that was also out of the question. As the other places were all in quarantine, Rick had come to the infirmary.

"You should find her, and apologize," Hershel said when he didn't speak. "She's at D with Beth."

Rick shook his head again. "No. Not now." He—he wasn't ready right now. This—all of this, all of it had turned into a mess, another mess, much like everything in his life. He'd been so certain hours ago, certain he was getting his shit together, stopping running away.

He asked her to stay—told her he wanted her to stay, then when he _stopped_ , this happened. He beat Tyreese, a man who had lost the woman he loved, sprained Daryl's wrist, and almost punched Amanda in the face.

The look she gave him as she lay under him, green eyes widened in shock and fear, and for a second or so Rick had even seen Lori, looking at him like he was a monster.

Perhaps he really was. He glanced behind toward his gun at the bed. Hershel followed his look and shook his head. "These days are hard for anyone. Talk to her. We don't know how long this’ll continue. Things might get even worse if more people start getting sick. We—we might have another person fall sick this morning an hour ago."

Rick shot a look at the old man. "Might have?"

"We don't know sure—" Hershel said. "She said she's feeling fatigue, but she doesn't show any symptoms yet. We put her in A in any case."

Rick nodded. "Talk to her—" Hershel told him again. "If this is what we fear what it is," the old man said at last, standing up. "We'll be needing meds. Antibiotics and supplements for the immune system, respirators, even sanitary equipment—" Hershel stated as Rick stared at him. "If this is an infection, we'll need _her_. Only a hospital has got this stuff."

With that, Hershel left as Rick stared at his back.

# # #

Before anything, Rick decided to do some cop business first. He needed to put his mind back together. Everything was a whirlwind in him, and Hershel's words had become the last straw.

What—what were they going to do if it really happened?

Hershel was right. If they had a fatal infection, they couldn't manage it with the antibiotics they scavenged from the pharmacies. No. They were going to need a real hospital.

Amanda had claimed the woman, their ranking officer, would never trade with them, would never give away her meds under no circumstances. Rick wondered what would take to convince them if it came down to the worst… He stopped himself.

He—he didn't want her to go back to that place! It was dangerous. Even with what little info she'd given away, Rick understood it. He'd _asked_ her to stay. He couldn't go and tell her now they would need her to go back to her people.

He almost growled, anger finding him again. Why—why did it always have to be like this?

She was going this morning—with a goodbye and all. She was just going to be a memory Rick would think with a faint smile over his lips, recalling her last words to him, _thank you for proving to a girl chivalry hasn't still gone extinct, sheriff…_

A good memory in this shitty world they lived in—two strangers in the woods, their paths crossed one day, for only a day—helping each other, proving to each other there were still good people around.

Now, like everything else, that chance was gone, too. Instead he had this—this reality where he almost punched her, holding her throat after he'd asked her to stay with him, all the while thinking how he could ask her to go back to that place that he didn’t want her to return if they needed it.

Some chivalry indeed.

Cop business, he told himself, walking around the perimeters. There were two people murdered under his watch. He needed to deal with it at least. He walked around, seeing Glenn and Maggie were still digging graves with others, and his eyes fell on Tyreese, doing the same thing.

From afar, he saw the man digging feverishly like he was still fighting something, his face bloodied. "You should talk to him," Carol spoke behind him. Rick turned aside and looked at the older woman over his shoulder.

Yeah, he needed to do a lot of _talking_ today. He half nodded. "We need to pay our respects," Rick said. "Then I apologize." A lot of apologizing.

Carol gave him a look, then shook her head, her eyes moving towards Tyreese. "Perhaps we should give him some time," she said. "His pain is still too fresh. He needs time."

Rick shook his head. He needed to do his job. "No. I need to talk to him. Need to learn if anyone had a quarrel with Karen or David."

Carol nodded then and turned. "Okay. You go. I'm having trouble with the water pumps."

"We're okay for today,” Rick said, the idea of being anyone out by themselves bothering him. They didn’t need any more trouble. “We can do it tomorrow. Wait for us."

But Carol shook her head, as she walked away. "No, it's okay. I got it."

For a moment he thought to tell Carol again to wait—like…like an order, but the next he started walking to Tyreese. He was just so tired…so weary.

When he stood behind him, Tyreese ignored him first. Rick started speaking from behind him, "I'm sorry—" The big man didn't make any reply, only kept digging. "For what's worth, I'm gonna find who did this."

Without a word, Tyreese nodded. "Is there anyone Karen or David was having problems with or a quarrel?" he asked to be certain. He didn't think so, the motive for their murders were clear, but he still wanted to clear all of his bases.

Tyreese shook his head. "No one. Everyone loved Karen."

Before she got sick. It was fear…fear of losing. It turned them to monstrous acts, made them do things they thought they couldn't do under no circumstances.

With a nod, Rick left the man. He went to look for the watchtower where they stocked the gas. He saw Maggie coming toward him with Glenn. They were walking a few meters away from each other, still keeping a safety distance as Maggie wasn't in the D block.

Rick stood afar and asked if she'd seen anyone taking gas. "I saw Michonne before she left with Daryl, and then Carol came. Why did you ask?" Maggie asked as Rick frowned and shook his head.

His head bowed, he started walking back to A Block's backyard. He needed to read the scene, check the trails, search for clues before the crime scene got contaminated by daily life.

He passed through the halls, glancing at the cells behind the locked doors, and went to the yard. Opening the door with his bandaged hand, Rick froze at his steps. Amanda and Beth were already in the yard, knelt in front of the trails.

Hearing the metal door cracking up, their heads snapped up from the blood stains. They looked at him as Rick stared back at them.

# # #

Rick Grimes, Amanda decided at the end, was one of the most fucked up sonofabitches she'd ever met all in her life.

She paced the hall, agitated, before the cells, ignoring the looks people gave her, fucking hating it; all people clustered around, everything in public… no privacy, not a lick of it. How could she even imagine herself living in such a place anyways?

Getting more heated, she started taking off her long-sleeved black shirt and stayed with her uniform's white tee. Feeling her bun get untidy after the day, rotters and being thrown over shoulders at the ground, she undid it and started redoing it.

"Why don't you let it stay down?" Beth asked suddenly where she sat over at a table under the barred windows. Amanda looked at the girl in confusion. "Your hair," Beth said. "You got nice hair. Why do you put it into a bun?"

She shrugged. "We’re not allowed to," she explained. "We're to cut it short or twist it into a bun."

Beth frowned. "It's stupid."

Amanda shrugged again, "It's rules. Basic procedure," she explained. "Buns and short hair are tactical. Done so if you get into a fight, your opponent wouldn't grab you by hair." She paused and smiled. "Besides, Dawn’s a control freak. And she hates hair."

Beth smiled. "Well, she's not here."

Yet rules and procedures were important. Something a certain sheriff’s deputy must learn as well. Her expression soured, remembering him, and she started pacing again. "I like it, too," she told the teenager, pushing the said man out of her thoughts. She was already as frayed as she was, no need to get more worked up.

The nerve of him! The nerve of him!

He—he threw her on the ground, almost punched her in the face, left without a word, and he'd not been sighted since then. She would think she deserved an apology at least, but obviously he wasn't even going to bother with it.

Three hours! Three hours had passed since they had left A Block.

And seriously how much time would it take uttering a simple I'm sorry? Ten seconds?

She shook her head with a hiss. She should've never mingled with him in the first place! Let him do whatever he damn pleased, grow his shit, feed his stupid pigs—

Remembering the pigs, she felt the sudden sadness again. His look in the back of the pick-up… She shooed the image away. She was furious with him! She didn't want to feel sad!

Ugh.

This was stupid.

 _She_ was stupid.

What the hell was she doing here anyway?

She was a cop. She should act like a damn one. There was someone who had murdered two sick people in cold blood here, and her turf or not, she needed to act like a cop. She needed to find the felon. She needed to do her job.

Spinning on her heels, she turned to Beth. "Hey—are you bored?"

Beth let out a sigh. "You have no idea."

"Wanna help me with some cop business?"

Her wide blue eyes lit up, the girl looked at her. "Really?"

Amanda nodded. "Yeah. Let's go. If I take another turn in this hall, I'm gonna lose it."

When they got back to A Block’s yard, it was already empty. No bodies. "What fool took the bodies?" she growled out, shaking her head.

Could people get even stupider, she started wondering. She was _almost_ this close to saying that even Grady had a better order of things.

"I think they brought them out to bury them."

Amanda shook her head with a big sigh, then breathed again. "What's done is done,” she said. “Let's see what we can dig up. We also need to learn who wanted the bodies out," she continued as she made a tour.

Beth stared at her for a moment, then her expression shifted. "Because the person who got them out might be the one who wanted to clean up the evidence, right?"

Amanda nodded with satisfaction. "Good. You're following up—" she commented. "When you investigate a case, you need to think of all the possible angles,” she instructed. As she’d brought the girl to the crime scene, she might as well teach the teenager some stuff. “Mentally who would do such a thing, who has a motive, what's the motive, whose best interest is it, the backstories, the patterns, then physically who _can_ do such a thing. Mentally being able to and physically being capable of it are two different things,” she remarked. “You have to look into the bodies, the wounds, the trails—everything. Every contact leaves a trace behind, and you have to read it."

Beth nodded eagerly. "So—read it," Amanda said. "Talk to me. What do you _see_?"

Beth lowered her head and looked at the scene. The two separate blood stains were still over the ground, thank god. Whoever had taken the bodies out hadn't cleaned the ground yet. One of them had more blood, splashed around, darker, and the other was lesser, almost cleaner.

Amanda quickly read it but waited for Beth to see what she could decipher. "The trails," the teenager said. "One is a lot messier, have more blood—as if—as if the person who dragged them out struggled with it more," Beth said, and this time, impressed, Amanda nodded.

"Why?" Amanda challenged the girl further.

"This belongs to David, I think—" Beth said, still looking at the stains as she lifted her eyes to look at Amanda. "So this’s Karen. The killer struggled with David while dragging him out but did it easier with Karen."

Amanda nodded in silence. "And that meant—” Beth paused a second before she concluded, “—physically he or she might be around Karen’s build."

Amanda nodded again. "Well done," she congratulated the girl and pointed at the door. "Look at the door," she ordered.

Beth dutifully padded to it and checked. On the door there was a half of fingerprint, Amanda had seen it while making a tour. It belonged to a small hand. "It's a half of print,” Beth said, looking at it.

"Of a small hand—” Amanda completed, kneeling down over the blood stains for a closer look. "The killer—it's either a woman or a young boy or girl,” she remarked, “A very small build man might have smaller hands, but I don't think so. I think it's a woman."

Beth came to her side again and knelt down, too. "We need to find out who asked for gas in the last week or who has it stashed," Amanda told her.

"We put it below the watch tower and take it from there when it's needed,” Beth answered. “We don't stock up inside the cells."

"That's much better. I'm sure we'll pick up something. If we crosscheck it, it'd give us a real lead. It might be something else too, but under the circumstances, I believe the motivation is quite clear. Someone didn't want the disease to spread. So, we need to find out who has got such a cool blood and survival of the fittest attitude."

Beth gave her a look. "I don't think anyone of us would do such a thing—"

"Well, Beth, apparently, someone _did_."

The teenager bowed her head, having a sorrowful expression. Amanda felt bad…She didn't want to make the girl feel bad. All in honesty, the girl was one of the best companies she had in years. She had a quick mind, unbiased, and a quirky, nice personality, overall a very decent human being. "You did pretty awesome here," Amanda told her. "You're very smart. You could make a very good detective."

She beamed, smile bright. "Really?"

"Yep—" Amanda nodded. "Not a lot of people could do what you just did this quickly."

"Well, it was fun—" Beth paused as if understanding what she said. "I mean, not fun _obviously_ , but—you know what I mean?"

Amanda gave her a little smile. "Yes. I know." She made a move to stand up. "Let's go find out who asked to take the bodies out first, then we check the gas. Do you have a ledger—" She stopped as she heard the door crack open. She snapped her head and saw—

Oh, dear god…the last person she wanted to see on the face of earth at the moment.

Rick stared at them quite in shock as well, then stepped into the backyard. "What're you doing here?" he asked, his eyes moving towards her.

Amanda almost rolled her eyes. "My job—" she shot back, drawing up fully. " _Someone_ has to do it. You know…pretend like a real cop once in a while…" she muttered under her breath.

Rick shot a look at Beth. "Beth—can you give us a moment, please."

Amanda cut in before the younger girl would answer, "Actually we were just leaving," she said walking to the door, but he stopped her with a hand at her upper arm. A hand wrapped with bandages.

"No. We—we should talk."

She shrugged his hand off. "I've got other stuff to attend to," she said back briskly, raising her chin up. "Find me later."

He frowned. "What stuff?" he asked. "You've been here a _day_!"

"Well, I'm a fast worker!"

Beth suddenly sprung to her feet and dashed at the door. "I—I'll see you later. Bye!"

Her eyes widened; Amanda stared at the younger girl's back while Beth made her exit. She was a quick one! That was sure.

Amanda turned to Rick then. His eyes were on her throat. There were faint half prints that his fingers had left behind on her skin, too, so she quickly asked, "Do you know who asked to take the bodies out?" She motioned with her head. "They were already gone when we came."

He shook his head in negative. "Well, we need to find out," she stated. "I think we're looking for a woman,” she filled him in. “I looked at the blood stains. She struggled with David but managed it fine with Karen. There’s half of a handprint, so it's either a small built woman or a young boy or girl… Someone who had gas to burn the bodies. We were going to check—"

"It's Carol—" Rick suddenly said, cutting her off. "It's Carol," he repeated as Amanda gave him a look.

"The short grey-haired woman?" she asked to be sure.

Rick nodded. "You—you were looking for it, too?" she asked, giving him another seizing look. So he’d been being a cop, too. Color her shocked!

He gave her another tilt of head. "I talked to Maggie. Carol took the gas after the attack. I saw Carol, too. It's her, I know it. Carol—she can get pretty…protective."

She frowned and pointed at the blood stains. "This is not protective. This is the first-degree cold-blooded murder."

He gave her a look. "I know."

"What’re you going to do about it?" she asked.

He let out a breath. "I don't know…" he muttered.

Lifting her head up, she sighed, shaking her head. "You know what—forget about it. I'm done with it," she started walking away, but he caught her arm again.

"Amanda—" he started, but she cut him off again.

"I said forget about it," she said. "I know you're sorry, and all in frankness, I don't give a damn."

Taking a step closer to her, he gave her a look, tilting his head to find her eyes. "Amanda, I know you're upset—"

"Upset?" She barked out a small humorless laugh. "You _do_ have some great observation skills, Rick. I'm not upset. Actually, I'm pretty much bored with it. Everything—everything with this place is pure chaos!” she exclaimed. “You're all doing stuff, but you have no idea what you're doing! You don’t have any lick of order around here so much that I'm shocked how you _actually_ managed all of this!” Her arms spread out to emphasize her words. “I've been here since yesterday, and I was almost eaten by rotters, got infected, then saw the aftermath of a murder, and almost got punched in my face! All in one fucking _day_!" She laughed again in disbelief, words pouring out of her, and shaking her head. "And you say you want me to stay…" she muttered.

His face stiffened, one side of it still smeared with blood from his fight, as he gave her a cold look back. "At least you wouldn't get shot here by your own people, then left behind for walkers."

She let out another humorless laugh. "No, I would just get murdered and set on fire—" she shot back, her expression souring. "I know where I stand with my people, Rick, with the likes of Gorman,” she told him then truthfully. “Nothing— _nothing_ Gorman would do can ever surprise me anymore. I know he left me behind for rotters so I could get out from under his feet and you know what? I'm not surprised a bit. They're the devils I know. With you lot everything is a wild card." She shook her head, anger filling her again. "You're full of surprises. And I _hate_ surprises!"

"Fine!" he sneered at her. "If you want to go back to the devils you know, then go. I'm not stopping you. I told you I can _spare_ you a car."

She flinched back as if this time he really hit her, anger distorting her face. She tilted her head toward the blood stains on the ground. "What you did here with that muscle of man was stupid. You didn't act like a cop! And that's what I'm talking about! There are all kinds of procedures and approaches for situations like these. What the fuck did they teach you at the Academy?" she asked, because she was really beginning to wonder.

"He was aggressive," she continued before he could say anything. "He was lost in his grief and anger. He needed to hear the cold _authority_. He needed you to tell him with an utter certainty that everything was going to be okay, that _you_ were going to make it okay. Instead you tried to feed him some nonsense, tried to placate him with empty words." She shook her head disgusted. "How we all lost someone—how I know what you feel—how I lost the love of my life, too, and turned into an utter mess because I was stupid enough to get her knocked up at the end of the world—" Her words cut off as suddenly he grabbed her at the upper arms and drove her back into the bars, pain erupting at her side again—and Amanda realized what the hell she'd been sputtering at him.

Her eyes widened, she stared at him as he glared at her; his eyes brazen, a stormy tempest, his face inches apart from hers… "You know _nothing_ about me!" he spat at her with venom.

"I—I—" She struggled with the words, heat coming out of her. She felt it emitting out of her every pore, and she was so embarrassed she wished she would've just vaporized into thin air! What the fuck she'd said to him!

"I—I—" she tried to say another time with a small voice. "I'm sorry."

Rick pulled back after that, his anger suddenly winding down too. He passed his bandaged hand over his face with a deep breath, turning aside from her.

She thought if she just could slip away and go…where, she wasn't sure. She—she had to go now. She couldn't stay around him any longer. But what if she was really infected? She didn't feel sick, but the symptoms would be different for each person… and Rick wasn't even looking at her now…

Why—why the hell did she always have to do stuff like this?

Rick gave out another deep sigh, shaking his head, as his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. "And you said you weren't upset…" he mumbled. She glanced at him for a second, but he was still looking down at the ground.

"Um—perhaps I was a _bit_ —" she said lowly, bowing her head too. "Three hours… It'd have taken only ten seconds to say a simple sorry…" she mumbled.

His head snapped up at her after her words, Amanda saw it under her bowed head. This time he gave her a long look, keen, almost searching. Amanda felt the heat of embarrassment even worse. God, she really wanted to vanish into the air now… Her mouth obviously somehow had cut its contact to her brain.

And he was still looking at her, which was making it even worse, a lot more awkward. She wished he _really_ would stop doing it… then the metal door suddenly cracked again. They both reacted at the same time. She twirled at the door as Rick twisted toward it, and Amanda saw an Asian man walking inside, agitated.

Like usual, the guy called out to him with urgency. "Rick!" he urged. "You need to see this!"

"What happened _this time_?" Rick bit off, and she almost let out a snort, _almost_.

"It's the fences—" the guy cried. "We found something. We think someone is…feeding walkers at the fences!"

Then Amanda couldn't help it anymore. Her eyes found his, a barely contained snort of laughter inside her. Because that was _what_ she had been talking about and Rick knew it. He gave her another look. Amanda shot up her hands in the air. "I'm not saying anything…"


	6. Chapter 6

**VI.**

What happened _this time_ was the dead rats along the fences, cut open as if to make them more of a feast to walkers.

Crouched at the ground, Rick looked at the butchered rodents along the baseline of the fences. The rest of them who were on duty were killing walkers that tried to get through inside, snarls and growls coming up above them.

They were not herded up, but walkers were still coming. They probably had smelt animal blood and flesh, an open feast—and who—who could do such a thing?

Why would anyone do such a thing?

The woman in the woods had tried to feed him to her dead husband. The bastard had wanted to sabotage them, using butchered animals as a bait. Even with Karen and David, Rick could…understand the motive. He knew Carol had killed to protect them, even though he couldn't have accepted it, he could understand.

But this…this made no sense.

Amanda was right. Harsh, crude, insensitive, her words sharp as a razor, but also _right_. It felt like everything they had built so far was coming apart. And it wasn't just today, either. It'd been coming a long while since. They’d been just pretending not to notice it, closing their eyes.

The dead animals must’ve been here at the fences for a while, Rick was certain now. How he'd seen dead animals before in the woods, as well, reading the signs but let it go.

He held back a sigh. Maybe—just maybe he needed to hear those harsh words, slapping at him like lashes. He'd lost it again and drove her back at bars—so furious hearing what was coming out of her mouth, lashing back at her… _You know nothing about me!_

He was right, she knew nothing. She didn’t know how much he'd screwed up, how many times, but the words hit him close all the same.

Though, it seemed that they both learned about each other a bit clearer today. She saw him losing it, attacking Tyreese like a beast. Rick learned that she had quills, sharp and edgy, and she wasn't afraid to draw them out when she got upset and stick someone.

He wondered if that was how she'd ended up in the woods alone, and for a moment it all made _sense_. He could see it so clearly.

And she was upset, Rick could see it clearly, as well, upset because he hadn't come to apologize. It'd startled him, the way she looked while uttering it would've only taken ten seconds, a redness spreading up over her neck. All things considered, seeing her like that had been even more surprising than her lashing out.

He flicked his eyes toward her as she was crouched across from him, circled by others. Since yesterday she was only in a real contact with either him or Beth, keeping her distance from others. Rick had an inkling that she preferred to keep it that way. Perhaps, perhaps she really should go back to her people.

The devils she knew.

His expression souring, Rick pulled up back to his feet. "We need to search through the entire prison," he told them. "Whoever's doing this has to come out after dark," he reasoned. "So, we need to double up the night watches, too."

"How come anyone didn't notice this before?" Amanda asked suddenly as he finished, her eyebrows drawn together, and her voice cross. "Some of these—" She waved a hand over the ground, "might be two-day dead. Don't you check the perimeters?"

Maggie frowning at the words answered with the same terse tone. "Yes, we do."

"Then I repeat—" Amanda bit off. "How come anyone didn't notice? What were you doing? Playing hide and seek?"

Here they went… He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Maggie took a step forward. "I'm sorry but _who_ are you?"

Amanda snorted. "Huh, no wonder that you didn't see them—" She pointed with her head towards the dead animals. "I've been here since yesterday, going around, and you _don't_ know me?"

"Amanda, that's enough—" he snapped, and turned to Maggie. "Maggie, go check around with Glenn. A complete sweep."

Shooting Amanda a glare, the other woman turned around and started walking away, Glenn following her. Rick touched at Amanda’s elbow to direct them to the other side, leaving the others.

"I just asked a question—” she said, “something you should've asked…" she muttered the last part under her breath.

He faltered in his steps, giving her a look. "Are you _not_ done with it yet?"

She shook her head, walking. "You know I'm right—" she said, "If anything like this happened at Grady, Dawn would've taken our hides!"

"You're _not_ at Grady!" he lashed out again, taking a step toward her, then both stopped and looked at each other. Amanda swallowed, still staring at him with widened eyes… "You're holed up at Grady—Grady Memorial?" Rick asked, astounded.

Grady Memorial Hospital was one of the largest hospitals of the state, coming directly after Emory University, the premier hospital in Georgia. Grady was an old hospital system with a lot of clinics that specialized in low income medical care, a lot of meds… Hershel's words came at him as Amanda stood still stunned with her slip. Then her jaw clenched as a shadow passed over her features. She turned and stormed off.

"Amanda—!" he called after her, catching up to her. "Stop. I'm not—I won't do anything. I still want you to stay with us—” As the words left him Rick realized they were true. He wanted it, despite everything, he still didn't want her to go back to those people.

Stopping, she lifted her head to look at him. "Still…Really?"

His eyes on hers, Rick nodded. They passed a couple of seconds again in silence before he turned toward the graveyard they'd been preparing since the morning. Almost everyone scattered around to check the prison and the grounds. Fourteen graves. They had to dig fourteen of them, to bury their dead. “We need to finish digging the graves,” he commented, turning back to her.

In silence, Amanda nodded. They started walking toward the graveyard they’d prepared at the farthest corner of the blocks.

Tyreese had left, but his graves were already finished. Rick stopped in front of them. There were other freshly dug graves too, marked with their lost ones' belongings. He saw Patrick's thick glasses, rosary beads at another cross, and a gun. The grave in front of him had a cross tied with a scarf, a scarf that once belonged to Karen.

 _I was bringing her flowers…_ Karen liked flowers. Rick could remember Tyreese bringing the woman bouquets all the time, and the way Karen smiled seeing them… Bowing his head, Rick saw a couple of yellow wildflowers. He knelt to take a handful of them and lay them over her grave. Amanda followed his example too, collecting a few, and placed them over the grave beside his. After that she drew back and looked around the graves, sighing.

Rick knelt down again and pulled out a single wildflower. He closed on in her and extended it to her. First, she looked at him as if she couldn't understand, then she looked down at the flower. "I'm sorry—" Rick told her simply, but left the rest open… _Sorry for being a prick, sorry not sparing ten seconds, sorry for almost punching you…_

"It—it's okay—" she mumbled, her head still bowed, her gaze on the flower. Rick saw her hand having a slight tremor as she took the flower from him. "I—I'm sorry, too."

She drew her head back and gave him a hesitant look, the air between them tensing again with uneasiness. Rick regretted his gesture for a moment. He swallowed low in his throat, glancing around. Amanda tucked the flower inside her pocket quietly. His eyes catching the shovel behind her, he walked to it.

Taking the shovel, he started digging another grave, his bandaged hand firing in protest. Rick ignored the pain. They _had to_ bury their dead. Amanda twisted aside, too, looking for another shovel, but Rick stopped her.

"No—" She turned back to him as Rick skipped a look toward her, pushing the edge of shovel into the dirt. "I got it. Your ribs are still wounded." She'd taken her uniform's shirt off and was just wearing her white tee now. Her bandages were visible under the thin fabric.

Rick felt her eyes finding his bandaged hand, too, even without looking at her. "So is your hand,” she shot back.

Rick let out a sigh, lifting his head up before he halted his movement. "Do you always turn everything into a competition?"

Amanda frowned. "Actually, I don't—" she answered with a cool voice. "Usually I avoid conflict as much as I can."

He made a sound, then remembered how she'd tried to slip away from the fight first before he'd lost it completely. "There was this boy once when I was a child, about twice as big as me," she started retelling, "used to call me skinny all the time. I _hated_ it. One day I lost it and attacked him. He kicked my ass so bad I couldn't walk properly for days." She let out a small, silent laugh, shaking her head as Rick stared at her, his eyes narrowing. "But I learned my lesson well." She paused. "Don't get into a fight you know you can't win."

"And did they let you fight like that?" he asked with a frown. "What kind of a school was that?"

She shrugged. "Wasn't a school—" she replied offhandedly. Rick frowned even more. "What’re you going to do with Carol?" she asked, shifting off the topic again, he realized. "Have you decided?"

Rick let her. He shook his head, turning back to his work, and stuck the shovel into earth again. "I don't make decisions for everyone anymore. I'll talk with the council tomorrow. Then we'll decide."

Sighing, she sat down on the ground cross-legged a few feet away from him as he continued his work. "I thought we talked about it."

"Yes, you told me to stop it, and I _have_ —" he said in return, pulling out a shovel of dirt, and dumped it away. "I'm their leader, and I will act like one. But I'm still not making all the decisions alone."

"But this something you have to deal with covertly. The more people know, the more unease it will create." She paused. "Especially if you decide to—you know…look at the other side."

Drawing upward, he held the shovel at arm's length, and looked at her in seriousness. "Look at the other side?" he repeated low.

She gave him a look. "You said she did it to protect you."

"And you said it wasn't protective but first-degree cold-blooded murder."

"Yes, I did—" she said placidly.

"So I should cover it up?" he asked.

"I didn't say that. It's your call, not mine."

His eyes held hers, leaning down over her where she sat down beside his feet. " _What_ are you saying exactly, Amanda?"

She shook her head. "You know what I'm saying, Rick, you were not born yesterday."

"What would you do?" he asked her then.

"What?"

"If you were in my place, what would you do?"

For a second or so, she was silent, then asked, "Do you want to hear the right answer or the honest one?"

"You know what I want."

Letting out a sigh, she bowed her head, looking at her lap, then answered. "I'd sit down, think of pros and cons and try to see what comes up short…" She raised her head up. "Most of the time we don't have the luxury of doing the right thing anymore." She paused. "There's a reason why we still have Gorman and his pals around."

His face cold, he stared at her sternly. "Saw their pros list come longer?" he asked, but it wasn't a question that needed to be answered.

"Something like that," she answered anyway. "You just give an inch first, and they run miles with it…then another and another…then one day they're…too far gone. No more trying, no more struggling. Lost."

He looked at her, his eyes cold as just as his face. "And then they just shoot you and leave you behind—" he completed for her, throwing the shovel, and walked away.

# # #

The next morning, he left for a supply run with Carol. He hadn't even cast a look in Amanda's direction. Amanda just sat at the almost empty benches.

One of the guards, the Afro-American woman, Sasha, she learned was the woman’s name, had become sick after they'd left. Amanda sat there and wondered if it really started. Another one followed around noon, Glenn, Beth's sister's husband, and she realized it did.

So, she sat at the benches with Beth, twirling the single flower Rick had given to her in her hands, her eyes almost welled with tears. "Where did you find it?" Beth asked.

Her eyes still at the flower, Amanda mumbled. "Rick gave it to me."

Beth stared at her. Amanda stared at the flower. The only time she'd ever received any flowers from a man was when Jackson used to leave a single carnation at the desks of each female officer at the headquarters for every Women's Day.

She remembered it, smiling. Jackson. The gentle, nice soul. He'd been one of the first they’d lost. It was Gorman who had dealt with him at the end, firing the final shot. Looking at it now, Amanda found it ironic, acerbically, caustically ironic. Perhaps even…poetic.

A requiem for the world they lost without words, without notes.

She felt tears threatening to break. She swallowed forcefully.

She wanted to go away, away from everything, from everyone, just be herself again though she wasn't sure what she was anymore, then again, she never did. She always knew herself to be selfish, a selfish bitch who always cared for her own skin—she twirled the flower in her hands.

"My father will go out in the woods to pick elderberries," Beth told her after a while. "He says it's good for the immune system. Maggie and I will go with him. Wanna come with us?"

Amanda nodded. "Yeah, sure." She pocketed her flower again, standing up from the bench.

Beth stopped for a second. "Amanda—are you okay?" She paused for a second, afraid. "You—you don't feel sick, right?"

Sick…yes, she felt…heartsick, like something was rotting deep inside her. All things she’d done, closed her eyes and turned her head to look the other way… Noah's beaten face, Joan's bruised wrists, Percy's cries… each time telling herself they were alive at least, still breathing. Not like Karen and David. "No—I'm fine," she said, forcing back tears. "Let's go."

Maggie's eyes were red, red from crying, where she was waiting for them at the fences. For a moment, Amanda felt for the woman, imagining how it would've felt like—fearing losing someone you loved…

_We all lost someone…_

They all had… everyone except Amanda. She'd only lost Jackson, Pearson, Dent, and such: people she hardly had ever known before the turn aside being her colleagues.

She lifted her head, and saw Beth's father limping toward them, this time without crutches, and beside him…Carl was walking.

Amanda stared…. "Carl?" Maggie exclaimed, "You shouldn't be out here!"

"He—saw me leaving the quarantine. Couldn't stay behind."

"Carl—" Beth said "You—"

"I want to help!" the teenager cut her off. "I want to do something."

The words twirled in her mind, remembering how Rick looked when the boy had swung himself into his arms—afraid he could've infected his son… A sudden fright took her…No… No!

He'd already lost too much. If something happened to his boy, Amanda didn't even want to think of it.

She turned to the young teenager and stared him in the eye. "Turn around and go back. Now—" she ordered with her best cop voice, straightening her back. The boy opened his mouth, and she cut him off. "I'm not hearing it. You're going. _Now_!"

The boy's eyes heated, staring back at her, squinting, and Amanda knew from whom the boy inherited that look. Rick Grimes' boy, indeed. The next second, he turned around and stormed off to the blocks.

Amanda let out the breath she'd been holding and turned to the Greene family. "Let's go."

# # #

"So, you're gonna stay with us now?" Maggie asked as they returned from the woods, holding bags of fruit, but before Amanda could open her mouth, Beth beat her to it.

"Rick said she could stay as long as she wanted—" Beth turned to her. "Right, Amanda?"

Amanda nodded in silence. Maggie turned to her. "Will you?" the younger woman prompted again. She wondered why the woman was this curious, but Amanda couldn't satisfy her curiosity because she realized she didn't have an answer to give.

Right that moment, the metal gates pulled back, two men hanging on the crude rope mechanism that moved them, and the light blue-green Hyundai Rick drove passed through the main gate. From the car, only one person got out.

Leaving the car, they exchanged a brief glance as Rick passed them by without any word.

# # #

The word that Carol hadn’t returned with Rick spread like a wildfire in the prison as the sun set. Rick didn’t give any explanation to anyone, but everyone knew what it meant.

Tyreese found her outside the benches where she usually perched on Beth and stood in front of them. "I know you looked for her, too—" the big man told her, his face still distorted, purple on dark, one eye half closed, "Thank you. I won't forget that."

In silence, Amanda nodded.

They took two more inside A Block two hours later.

# # #

"Beth!" Maggie screamed, running toward them from A Block— "Beth! Come!"

The teenager jumped down from the bench. "What happened?"

"It's dad! He's going in A Block! Come! Quick!"

Beth started running, and Amanda followed too.

Rick was already in front of the block's door when they arrived.

"Hershel—please, we need you—"

"Dad—" Beth sobbed as the old man tied a wide handkerchief across his mouth and chin.

"Hershel—" Rick started, but the old man interrupted him.

"No, listen to me, this the world we live in," he told them. "You step outside, you risk your life. You take a drink of water, you risk your life.” He paused a second, his gaze old and sturdy like mountains. “Nowadays you breathe, and you risk your life. It's not up to you anymore. The only thing you can choose now is what you're risking it for.” He paused again as his eyes drew to his daughters. “I can help those people. Give them some hope. And that's reason enough to risk mine."

# # #

"Beth—" Amanda told her as they sat at the benches again. "You've got a great dad."

The teenager nodded. "He is—" she said, "I'm lucky."

Amanda smiled ruefully. "Good to hear. Most people usually don't understand how lucky they are until it's too late."

Beth nodded again, this time in silence. "I have to go back, Beth," Amanda said then. "I can't stay. I wish I could, but my people need me."

She—she had to go back and make a change. She didn't know how, but she was going to find a way. There would be no more Gorman, no more Dawn. No more beaten wards, no more bruised wrists, no more crying elderly. That was a reason enough to risk her own life.

Beth looked at her, as if understanding her, and perhaps she did. "I won't say goodbye."

"I know—you hate goodbyes."

Beth nodded seriously. "And you still owe me a drink."

In answer, Amanda gave her a small smile, lips closed, and watched her as the teenager jumped from the bench and went inside.

She took out her flower from her pocket and started twirling it inside her hands.

# # #

As the night passed, the yard lit only with moonlight, Rick found her still at the benches.

He took a seat beside her. "Beth told me what you did with Carl today," he stated, resting his hands over his knees as Amanda quickly pocketed her flower. Even though Rick saw it in her hands, he didn't say anything. "Thank ya."

She nodded, her head bowed. "It's the least I could do for you."

"I didn't make the pros and cons—" he told her then, "I didn't do it because it was the right thing, either.” He paused a second before he admitted, “I did it for my children, I did it because I didn't want her to be close to Carl and Judith after what happened. I couldn't take the risk."

He started playing with his hands between his knees in the air, bowing his head. "We all did things, did what we had to do. I can do anything—" His eyes flickered at hers for a second, again a brazen storm. " _Anything_ to keep my children safe. I killed my best friend, my partner, the man who saved my life when this all started because he was too far gone and there was no going back. And I did it for my family, for these people. Carol was one of those people, but she—she just should've waited."

She nodded in silence, didn't say anything because she didn't know what to say. "If you stay with us," he then continued, craning his neck up. His eyes found hers again, keen and searching, probing, trying to slip in her and see what lay beneath, and Amanda realized the reason now. "If you stay with us,” he repeated, “You're going to be one of those people. You'll be around Carl and Judith, and I need to—I _need to_ know what you did—that you looked at the other side."

Spoken with a cold authority that she'd wanted from him earlier the words weren't an inquiry but an order.

She looked at him in the eye, but there was no anger in her. “You're a good father, Rick, and your children—" she told him what she'd said to Beth. "Your children are very lucky to have a father like you." She paused and shook her head. "But you don't need to worry. If I live through this, I'm going back to Grady."

His eyes sharpened after her declaration, he looked at her even keener.

"I can't stay. We don't have only Gorman and his likes there. There're other people, too. There's—there's Percy, a seventy-year-old man. We—we found him one day in one of the buildings. Me and my partner. We thought to leave him first. He was so miserable, but we just couldn't. He mops the floors like it's the most demanding job in the world. Gorman and his pals…they make fun of him all the time, he cries…cries like a baby, and I just look at the other side as I pass him by the corridors and tell myself he's still breathing."

She shook her head, making a small bitter laugh, disgusted…with herself…with Gorman, with everything. "There's Noah,” she continued, and she didn’t even know why. She just kept talking. “He's a smart young boy. They found him in the city, took him in, and left his father behind. We only help what we deem would be harmless to us." She directed a look at him. "If we see you and Carl somehow injured in the city, we’d take Carl but leave you behind. We _don't_ take risks, either.”

She paused again, her tone turning even more bitter, “Noah’s a good kid, has a limp from his injury, but works hard. He's Dawn's personal ward. Dawn—" She swallowed. "Dawn gets violent when things go bad…when we fuck up. She loses it. She wants to beat us, but she can't, so she beats the wards instead. Every time we screw up, I see Noah with a bruise over his face, and I look at the other side, and tell myself he's still alive." Tears filled in her eyes, and she fought with them, and it hurt.

Rick was just listening to her, making no sound. "And there's Joan. She's a beautiful, smart woman. A nurse. She was already at Grady when we were sent there to evacuate the building before the bombings started."

She paused for a breath, her throat catching for the rest. Rick was still silent beside her, looking at his hands. "She—Gorman—Gorman started losing it after a year, stopped…struggling. I started getting worried," she repeated her words.

"I thought if he had something, you know…he’d get himself back. I talked with Joan. They—they got together. Gorman—at first it was good, you know, having a woman—someone close…someone to take care of… He got winded down, then—" She let out a deep breath. "Then I don't know. It waned off, I guess. He turned worse. Joan wants to end it now, but he doesn't let her go. We don’t get involved. I heard him calling her an ungrateful bitch after all the things he did for her—for them… He thinks…he thinks he's got a right over her just because he keeps her alive and safe."

She shook her head, "I saw bruises over her wrists last week. I don’t think it was the first time. I talked with my partner. We thought if we could get him away from his pals and talk to him…a little male bonding. We thought perhaps we could convince him to let Joan go." She laughed bitterly, mixed with unshed tears. "You know how that ended…"

She stopped then, and they were both silent before she started speaking again. "I need to go back. Do something. I saw Mr. Hershel today, how he risked his life. I don't want to look at other side anymore. I—I've always known myself to be selfish, Rick, but…but… if I stayed here now, left them behind like nothing happened, I feel like I'd never forgive myself again. I don't want to do that to myself. I don't want to pass the rest of my life—however long it's—in regret."

His head still bowed, he nodded. "I understand."

She stood up then, feeling like they'd come to an end. She started stepping down the bench, but his voice stopped her as she landed on the ground. "What're you going to do?" he asked. Amanda looked at him. "You said you need to do something. What’re you going to do?" he repeated.

She shook her shoulders. "I don't know. I'll figure out something…eventually."

Hopefully.

# # #

The next morning, Beth started coughing.

And Amanda's tears finally broke after they took her in.

She found herself a secluded spot under a tree away in the most secluded parts of the fields from others and cried like she'd never done in years.

Everything—everything was so fucked up it actually hurt. Hurt like a bitch, even worse than her bruised ribs.

Rick found her under the tree after there were no tears left in her, her legs pulled up to her chest, her head over her knees, and Amanda knew it was him even before she raised her head and saw him.

She just knew it.

"Can we take it?"

Her eyes prickling from all the crying she did, she stared at him… "Can we take Grady?" he asked again, clarifying for her. Amanda still stared blankly.

He crouched in front of her, one hand propped on his knee. He leaned forward toward her as his eyes found hers. "You said you need to do something. Well, I'm offering help. Can we take it?"

"Y-you want to take Grady?" she uttered out, astonished.

"I need meds. It's started," he stated simply. "Those berries won't help us now. We need real treatment. We need a real hospital. And you need someone to help you to deal with them." In silence, she looked at him, thoughts running in her mind wild…before Rick asked again, " _So_ can we take it or not?"

Breathing out, Amanda pulled back to her feet and nodded. "Let's talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, we're finally off to Grady, Rick getting things into his hands :) This chapter took a bit of struggle, because it was hard to get Amanda confess all, but she needed to grow too, and I thought Hershel's scene would be a great trigger for her as a last strike. And Rick also has to have conflict about letting her stay, so, here we are.
> 
> I couldn't decide first if I should make Beth or Carl sick, because for the story purposes I think Beth works better, but I really thought Carl getting it too for a while.
> 
> And OMG, I was DYING to make Rick give Amanda a flower, you know, a single piece, saying sorry for being an ass. Had that idea for a while in my mind, and glad to make it, as well :)


	7. Chapter 7

**VII.**

Moist with tears, her eyes were red when Rick found under the small bushy tree at the farthest part of the prison complex. She'd already stopped crying, but there were also tear strains over her cheeks, her soft brunette hair in the bun had whizzed out of the corners. Yet as they started climbing up the prison, there was a clear, firm expression over her face.

While they walked, she passed a hand over her cheeks then straightened her hair as if to get herself back together. Rick thought perhaps he should've given her a moment to tidy herself up. She usually looked very contained, collected outside. Though seeing her like this gave him a small bit of relief as Rick recalled Carol's unapologetic aloofness on the run.

 _She wasn't even sorry_ , Rick had told Daryl after he'd returned to explain. If he'd heard a smallest pang of sorrow in Carol’s words, not only indifferent pragmaticism, but a small pinch of bitterness and ruefulness Rick had heard in Amanda's tone last night…

They all had done things. _Heuh’d_ done things—things he still couldn't regret because he knew if at any chance, he could've done the same. But sometimes he still wished…wished things would've been different… Lori…Lori still could've prepared them those godawful pancakes, Rick shouldn't have needed to kill his partner…his best friend…

The things he wished…

He'd done the right thing, not because it was the right one, but because it was the most sensible thing. Tyreese and Carol wouldn’t have lived in the same place anymore, and Rick couldn’t have Carol and his children under the same roof, either. Yes, he’d done the most sensible thing, and he was doing it again.

They needed meds. And Amanda needed help. It was a fair trade.

Better than most could get.

Absently, Rick thought if the boy they'd found on the run was still alive, and his right hand went to his left and he touched at his empty wrist. A part of him had known he might have never taken the watch back when he gave it to the young man. Rick felt its absence all the way back to the prison as he drove the car _alone_ , catching his look at the rear window… and the man that looked back at him… his eyes… as stark as Carol's. Then Rick realized he needed to know what Amanda had looked at the other side, too. He _needed to._

Suddenly he wondered if she still carried his flower in her pocket, looking at it when she thought herself alone. He wondered what she'd been thinking—his eyes skipped at her as they climbed into the blocks in silence. He led her to the library where they usually held the council meetings and gestured with his head for her to sit.

She obliged, walking over the long table in the room, and sat down on one of the chairs. "I'm gonna call the council, so we can talk it over."

She nodded, throwing her look away at the barred window to her left. Rick turned aside to leave the room, but her voice stopped him at the door.

"Rick—" she called him at his back. "Maybe you really did the right thing," she slowly told him a second later as Rick turned to her again.

"For Carol,” she elaborated, “Maybe…maybe…that's what she needs—to be away—to get away to understand on what path she's on. Beth told me his father told her once sometimes everyone needs to go for a while." She paused in consideration, her lips clenching, "Maybe that's what we did wrong, you know...with Gorman... Maybe if we—" She stopped, and shaking her head, she sighed, "I really _hate_ what ifs."

Rick understood what she meant. "So, don't—" he told her.

She shrugged. "Yeah—" She sighed again, "Life really would be so much easier if we didn't have this conscience," she muttered as Rick left the library to look for others.

# # #

Amanda really fucking _hated_ asking what ifs… little voices echoing in the depth of her mind second-guessing her choices, second-guessing herself… what if she weren’t been…herself, but just someone else…

Briefly she wondered how she would've been if she was one of the Greene Family, if she'd been born into their fold. She would've been still the same person she was now? Or she would've been more like Maggie—or more like Beth?

Or someone entirely else?

Better? Perhaps even worse?

Beth… she wished she could've been someone like her… someone who wasn't afraid to rest her head over almost a stranger's shoulder, looking for comfort and companionship. The world—it still needed people like Beth, people like Jackson, kind hearts, gentle souls, and _fearless_.

She—she could get into in the middle of a dozen rotters if she needed to, but she could never rest her head over a shoulder for companionship.

She needed to help Beth. She needed to help her people. She didn't know how, but Rick had said he wanted to help—his reasons didn't even matter, everyone always had their own reasons. Amanda never cared as long as they were at the same page. The rest was a problem for later. They had to find a way.

She just still didn't know how.

Would they just storm off in and kill Gorman and his pals, kill Dawn and turn everything into a bloodshed, into a pure chaos?

She shook her head at herself. No. She didn't want that.

It was too dangerous. The casualties could be too high and severe. The wards were just as useless as most people here when it came to fighting. She couldn't let that happen. She wanted to help her people, save them if she could, not to get them stranded in a bloodbath. There had to be another way.

She had to think smart. Her mind had always been her best weapon. A quick temper and mindless acts only got you a beaten ass, she'd learned it at a young age.

And Dawn—Dawn was as stable as an old dynamite. No. She could never risk it like that.

They returned as Amanda thought to herself, her head bowed, looking at her lap. She lifted it up hearing the door crack up and watched as they walked into the library.

There was Daryl, the hunter as she'd learned, not only Rick’s right-hand man, but also the group's main provider. Mr. Greene had come out of Block A for the meeting. Maggie and Tyreese followed, and the katana woman, Michonne, her ankle still wrapped bandages, and for the last, sheriff of the town.

They all took a seat around the table as Rick stood in front of them in the room, not sitting down. Amanda seized what was left of the fighters as many had fallen sick with clenched eyebrows as she realized without a perfect clarity that the answer to Rick's question was a no, clear as sky. They couldn't take Grady. They could haven't stormed off even if they _wanted._

They absolutely had no chance against the hospital.

Twisting aside at her seat, she looked at Rick, "Is that all?" she asked.

Rick shared a brief glance with Daryl as the hunter gave at him a brief nod back. "Glenn and Sasha are too sick," he answered, reading Rick’s silent question, and turned to the katana woman, "How're ya holding up?"

"I can fight," the woman said through tight lips.

Rick shook his head. "No. We can’t go out all of us. We still need people to guard the prison. The fences need to be controlled, walkers still coming up. We need to make sure what happened with rats won't happen again. Or we're doomed." He paused for a second. "Maggie and you stay—"

Silently Amanda listened the whole exchange, as he continued, waving an arm at his people, "Daryl, me, Tyreese, and Amanda. We go together. We do it quick and quiet. Amanda takes us in, and we fan out, silencer and all—"

And…Amanda couldn't take it anymore with this…absurdity. She deeply heaved out, shaking her head, and propped her forehead on her hand. With her gesture, Rick stopped in the middle of his words. She felt tension stretching in the air inside the room in the sudden silence as much as she felt his stern gaze on her.

"It's a no," she stated then with a low voice and lifted her head to look at him, "The answer to your question," she clarified, "No."

Stern eyes turned even harder, "You asked me if we could take it,” Amanda reminded, “the answer is no. You can't, not like this—" She twirled her hand in the hair, "So, please, for the love of god, _stop_."

In answer, his gaze lingered on her, his jaw clenched as he took a step forward with one leg. His hip jutted a little, one hand at his hip loosely as the other lightly drummed on the handle of his gun. Amanda recognized the cop pose immediately and for a second or so she couldn't tear off her eyes away even though she would like to—a sudden feel of _something_ inside her stomach, and she frowned…

"Okay—talk to us then," he told her, his fingers still tapping on the gun silently as her eyes trailed at his other hand at his hip…a golden glint in the pale morning sunlight inside the gloomy prison, his ring. Amanda snapped her eyes up at him. "We're listening,” Rick told her, staring at her back openly.

Drawing back at the chair, Amanda returned his look. "First of all," she started, "You can't sneak in Grady. We take safety very _seriously_ ," she stressed out, because they did. "We survived in the middle of _downtown_ this long not because we're dummies. The whole place is under a total lockdown, all exits and entrances either guarded by rotters or by us—seven-twenty-four, no exception. We got watches at the roof all the time, no exception."

There was silence in the room now and Amanda was glad she finally grasped their attention fully. "You can't get in," she stated with a finality in her voice, "Even though somehow you did, you can't make it to even the first floor. You're outnumbered."

"How many people do you have got?" Rick asked after that.

"Twenty-one—" she answered fast. The squadron that had been dispatched to clear off Grady was sixty and had left only twenty-one of them now. They'd survived this long in the downtown, yes, but not without a cost. They'd lost people, good people, until they'd stuck with the likes of Gorman. And again, for a reason. Every each of them who had survived this long was some kind of sonofabitch or another, even _herself_ included.

Rick gave a contained sigh. Amanda read in it, realizing that Rick saw her point. Well, the Deputy was a smart guy, Amanda had realized it, too, from the start.

Then he said, pointed his hand at her, taking it away from his gun, "You're out-gunned, though—" he remarked. "We've got better guns."

Her jaw squared, she looked at him coldly, her lips clenching, "No. It's too dangerous,” she declined firmly, “If we storm off with submachine guns, and gunfire start blazing around, we lose the wards. _No_."

 _Never_.

Rick's gaze found her again. "My priority is dealing with Gorman and his lot," she bit off, "and helping Beth and the other sick. I'm _not_ going to start a bloodshed. They're my people." They were, still.

"She’s right. We can’t do that," Tyreese agreed, as the same time Maggie asked.

"Can we trade for meds?" The woman leaned forward over the table. "We've…we've got food."

Amanda shook her head. "I already answered it," she said, darting a look at Rick, who was still looking at her in silence. "You can't trade with Dawn for meds. She won't give them away for food. She'd make us eat stone instead but won't give up her meds." She pursed her lips for a second. "Besides, well, she wouldn't trade with you—wouldn't even talk to you."

Rick frowned. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "Well, if she sees you, she just will think you're not in her league." She paused, trying to think off a better way to put it, to explain how Dawn's mind worked, "Dawn is a control freak. There's nothing she respects more than _order_. In her mind, you're just vagabonds trying to make it outside. She wouldn't even bother to talk to you." She paused again, "Wouldn't stoop that low," she muttered under her breath.

Rick made a sound as Daryl snorted out loudly. Maggie looked at her, astounded. "And you—you live with her for two years."

Amanda turned to the woman, stated the obvious. "She's our highest-ranking officer." There was no one out-ranking her, not even in the same rank with her, a lieutenant. Dawn had killed Hanson, yes, but she was the second in command. They were still in the chain of command. Lamson and Gorman had the same rank, Senior Sergeants. Dawn was also their balance point. If she was gone, then it was Lamson vs Gorman. Something they all dreaded after what had happened with Hanson. But Gorman—Gorman—

"So what do we do?" Rick asked then in the brief silence, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She shook her head. "I don't know. I'm _trying_ to think."

And they just _didn't_ let her do it. There had to be a way. There had to be. She refused to believe she'd gotten cornered this much. There had to be a way out. She always found a way out. She always managed. She didn't give up. She'd survived foster homes, how many she didn't even know, she’d stopped counting even before she was twelve. But she’d managed, as plain as it was, she'd built herself a life.

There never were many options for girls like her in life, born from a relapsing drug addict, left at the hospital at birth. Her mother couldn't have even come up with the father's name, Amanda discovered later after she'd become a cop. She supposed even the way she'd been conceived had been like that, a stupid sonofabitch accidentally dropping off a few sperms in her mother’s ovary in a moment of bad luck, doomed at the start, her life in a nutshell.

But she'd managed…she _had_. She had found a way out—hadn't fallen into the trap that had been waiting her outside, had made her own destiny instead.

She just had to think now. In the silence, Rick walked over to her, and stood hovering above, "Amanda, we need to try—" he told her sternly, "I need those meds."

 _Meds_ … Of course. His priority was meds first, of course. She knew he had his own reasons for doing this. She understood. She wanted to give them those meds too. She wanted to help Beth…she was one of the gentle, kindest souls this world still needed…but somehow his words stung, pricking at her, and she didn't like it.

"I thought I told you I _don't_ get into fights I know I can't win!" she snapped, lifting her head up at him.

He stared at her back coldly, "And I thought you wanted to do something!"

For a second, she thought to strike him, she really did. She sprung off her feet, "Fuck off, Rick," she spat through her teeth instead, and hit him at the shoulder, passing him by, "Just fuck off."

He caught her wrist before she could go away, stopping her retreat, his face still stern. She felt every eye in the room watching them. "Can you do it?" he rasped at her low, "Can you deal with them on your own?"

Deal with Gorman and his lot alone, kill them? Then called cop killer behind her back for the rest of her life? She'd never cared what other people thought about her, but it didn't mean she _enjoyed_ it. She still could remember how it felt when everyone thought of her a mob plant during her rookie years, and the bets later...The blasted bets on when she would turn dirty… Before her thoughts wandered further, she shook herself out of it.

Amanda never knew what she was, but she always knew what she _wasn’t_. She wasn’t a mob plant, she wasn’t a dirty cop, and she wasn’t a cop killer, either. Besides, the answer to Rick’s question was _still_ a no. Even if she wanted, she couldn't have. She couldn't…deal with four people alone at the same time.

She shook her head, yanking her hand off from his grip, "No, I can’t,” she answered, but didn’t elaborate further.

She just needed to find a way. A way out.

There was always a way out. Always.

# # #

Her feet brought her to A Block. She stood in front of glass panel that separated between them and tried to see inside. Behind the glass, she caught sunshine hair, still shining in the gloom of the cells. Amanda tapped the glass with her knuckles.

Hearing the voice, heads turned toward her direction, and Beth catching her sight from the other side, started coming at her.

The young teenager stood at the side of the glass and looked at her, "Dad told me you're going to Grady to find meds—" she told her, coughing a little in a handkerchief, "Will you?"

Looking at her figure, Amanda felt like she was disappointing her, as well. She swallowed, giving her a nod. "Rick wants to take it, but he can't,” she replied. “Not without a bloodshed. And I'm not with okay with it."

Beth nodded. "It's your people," she said. "Of course, you're not okay with it."

"There has to be a way—" Amanda told her then. "I—I need to talk with Lamson. Talk with others. When they hear what Gorman did…” She shook her head. “He crossed another line. We—no one likes cop killers."

Beth coughed a little again in the handkerchief. "Well, perhaps, we should just go and ask them to help us," she said jokingly, and shook the handkerchief in her fist, "I mean—you help sick people, right? And I've got germs!"

It hit her like a lighting. Amanda stared at her…and then a big smile broke over her lips. "You're a genius, Beth Greene!" She laughed, this time meaning it. "You've got germs, of course!"

Beth looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Amanda laughed again. "You know if you didn't have germs, you might've even hugged you," she muttered, shaking her head.

She might've, because, she found it… she found her way. "I gotta go,” she said, taking a step back. “I need to find Rick. Will explain later—" she quickly bubbled before she dashed out of the hall, and gave the young teenager another smile, "Thank you."

"Anytime—" Amanda heard her quip as she closed the metal door behind.

# # #

Rick was forfeiting the fences with long wooden logs with Maggie, both having a temper as they propped the long lumbers, "Did you really ask her to stay with us?" Maggie asked behind their usual conversation background of growls and snarls, "Beth said you did."

The log over his shoulder, Rick pushed it up, his bandaged hand again aching in protest. "Yeah…" he muttered, "She's not that bad." Maggie snorted a bit. Rick gave the woman a side look, rising the wooden log above his head, and propped it at the fence's top as Maggie secured it below in the earth. "She's got very friendly with Beth," he commented, taking a step away under it.

Maggie shrugged off a shoulder. "Yeah. I noticed. Beth's like that," she said, "I just—I don't know. Something irks me off with her."

Rick took another log from the car's trunk and started pulling it off as Maggie still dig the other in the dirt, muttering absently, "She's fine."

Maggie lifted her head from where she crouched down and looked at him. Rick caught the look as he passed her by, dragging the long log. "I heard you met in the woods."

He nodded. "Yeah… She was running from walkers."

Maggie made a noise over the snarls and growls. "Hmm, and you saved her?"

" _Actually_ , I saved myself," he shot back, raising the log again over his shoulder. "They were more than a dozen and were coming at me, too." He paused, the weight of tree log making his arm stretched and fired with pain over up his hand, "We fought together."

"And?" Maggie asked, standing up, "You asked the questions?"

"No—" Rick answered, stepping aside again, propping the log. He skipped a look at walkers outside. "She stole my gun."

Momentarily stopping her work, Maggie stared at him. "She stole your gun and you let her come with you?" she asked back, disbelief clear and loud in her tone.

Rick shrugged. "I took it back."

Her lips parted with a gentle smile as the young woman looked at him. Walking back to the car's trunk, Rick gave her another side look, "What?"

Maggie knelt down beside the second log he'd just propped up. "Nothing—it's, it’s just I haven’t seen you bringing someone in for a long time, that's it," she remarked lightly, "But I understand. A wounded pretty woman lost in the woods, looking for help—" the older Greene trailed off, giving him a side look, too. "And she's pretty, isn't she?"

Rick shook his head, a grimace setting at his jaw, "It's not like that."

"Hmm mm."

"She was just going to stay a night," he muttered out.

"Hmm mm," the woman hummed again, then her faint smile losing, her face became serious. "Her hospital, meds. We really need them, Rick," she said gravely. "I saw Glenn this morning. He's getting worse. We need to hurry."

His face stiffened further, Rick nodded. "I know—" he said. "I'll talk to her again."

Maggie stood up, rubbing her palms each other to dust them off. "Okay. I need to see Glenn and Beth now. We talk later, 'kay?"

Rick nodded, "Yeah."

In her retreat, the older Greene sister hesitated for a second, and turned to him.

"Rick—you—your call with Carol, it was the right one," she told him slowly, her arms tight at her side. "Last night—I thought about it...wondered what would've happened if it weren't Karen and David, but Glenn and Beth who got sick first. She wouldn't done the same? My heart told me no-but...you know...I just—" She shook her head, sighing loudly, "It was the right call," she repeated again.

Rick nodded at the young woman before Maggie left him with a last look. Rick took another log from the trunk, wondering if it was really the right call. He recalled Amanda's words. Perhaps he’d really done a good thing to Carol. Something Amanda and her people hadn’t done, and the more they looked at the other side, things grew worse for them. If he'd covered up what Carol did, perhaps she would've turned worse, too. He didn't know. It was a just a guess, second guessing. _So, don't_ , his own words came to him, too, after she'd declared she hated what ifs. Rick knew what she'd meant.

He wondered if that was what everyone started thinking behind his back about them. No one had hinted it aloud yet, of course, no one but Maggie, but the thought still got him worried, his brows furrowing.

It—it didn't have anything with _it_.

Either way, Rick had already closed that door after Lori’s death. Another woman after Lori…after what they'd all been through… after what had happened. And Carl…

Carl wouldn’t see another woman beside him. No. Despite everything, they were his family, still. Rick hadn't lied to Carol when he told her he still woke up sometimes and waited to hear Lori to call him to breakfast.

Stopping, snarls and growls of the walkers in his ear, Rick bowed his head and looked at his left hand. He twirled his golden band ring at his finger absently. Carl… Carl—he should go and check him, and Judy, he hadn't seen them since the morning...

He lifted his head, his fingers still playing with his ring absently. He started making a move, then stopped seeing Amanda marching at him. Her eyes were on his as she walked to him purposely, then her eyes flickered a second down and saw his hand on his ring. For a second, Rick could swear her lips tightened before she eased them off and raised her eyes back up at him.

Rick stopped his hand and dropped it at his side and waited her to come. He realized from the purposeful strides as if she were marching toward a battle, they were going to have a _talk_.

She stood in front of him, holding her ground firmly. "I found a way,” she then declared firmly, “I know how to get in.”

# # #

"You can't be serious with it!" he almost exclaimed over the sounds that rotters made. And all things considered, Amanda thought, perhaps this wasn't the best place to have a conversation like this, but well, it’d just happened that way.

She directly came to him after she'd left Beth, and found him idly playing with his ring, his bowed head in thoughts, brooding. Ugh. Rick Grimes had a thing for brooding, it seemed, galloping in misery.

She wondered how much time had really passed since his wife’s death. Judith seemed to be around six months around, so it was actually pretty new. It was just that—time was so relative now. It was only three days since she'd come to this place, but sometimes it felt like—she felt like she knew him for years, which was just absurd.

Her thoughts suddenly interrupted as something caught her ankle. Glancing down, she saw the rotten hand as she neared dangerously close to the fences and _rotters_. The rotten had tried to pull her back as a rotten mouth beside it tried to take a grab of her ankle—rotting but sharp teeth clattering between the fences—

She stumbled, fighting with it, and almost lost her balance but Rick was quicker. He caught her before she fell and pulled her away from the fence, toward _himself_. She hit at his chest with the sudden move as his hands tightened at her upper waist, steadying her.

He moved them aside and heeled down the hand through the fence as Amanda breathed his scent through her nostrils. He tilted his head down at her, "Ya okay?"

Craning her head up, pressed against his chest, Amanda nodded. "Yeah…" Then as if catching up where she was, his eyes locked on hers, and they shared a look—and this time that _something_ inside her throbbed, in her depths…

Amanda quickly yanked herself off of his grip and stepped back.

Okay. Okay. Okay… _That_ was bad.

There was this…tension between them since the beginning. She'd noticed him at the first sight. He…well, he was her type. He wasn’t a heap of muscles, lean with toned muscles, and not too tall, either; Amanda hated when men towered above her like a mountain. He also got smart keen eyes, definite features with a strong jaw. Even his arched nose was adding something to his charisma. All in frankness, if they were really just two strangers in a different world, Amanda would've _totally_ fucked him six ways from Sunday.

God, it had been ages since she had a good fuck. She liked sex, simple and unattached, two people satisfying a need, taking what they needed like animals. If there was something his brawl with Tyreese had proved, it was that Rick Grimes could get pretty animalistic when he wanted.

Sudden images assaulted her…and she closed her eyes, driving them off. No. No. No. No need to get into that. It'd only complicate things further, and she hated when it happened. There was a rule she'd always followed when it came to that. A very simple rule that had never let her down so far: _don't fuck people if you might get stuck with them for breakfast._

And she did not.

Rick cleared his throat lowly, swallowing, his head angling slightly in his usual gesture. "You want us go to Grady and ask help?" he asked, " _That's_ your idea?"

She pursed her lips, completely shutting off the sudden thoughts. She walked away to her left side to put a bit more distance with herself, rotters, and _him_. "It's Beth's idea, actually.”

Rick gave her a look. "Look, we were angling it wrong,” Amanda started, “We don't need to go in hostile. We just need to get _inside_ ," she tried to explain. "I need to talk with my partner and the rest of my people. Gorman and his pals are our responsibility,” she continued, “We need to do something _together_ , go through the chain of command, and relieve Dawn off her duties." One just had to do these things properly, even a coup had a _procedure_ to follow. Even Dawn had done it so.

He finally caught her there. "A coup?"

She nodded. "If I act alone, I'd be just a cop killer."

"And are you sure you can convince them?" he still asked skeptic though, and remarked coldly, "They seem to look at the other side, too, Amanda."

"This's different. No one likes cop killers," she intoned placid, "Even Gorman wouldn't have dared a clear headshot. I don't think he aimed to kill me, Rick. Not really. I believe he just saw the opportunity then took it. But he _did_ it. He crossed the line. Lamson and others won’t like it when they learned what he did.” They wouldn’t. They’d been trying to keep up their status quo for a long time, not to blow things apart again after Captain Hanson, but Gorman… “It's a leverage,” she said firmly. “I can play with it. And you guys could be my…auxiliary units."

He gave her a look after her declaration, one of those keen ones, searching. "And we go ask help and they help us?" he asked with disbelief.

She gave out a sigh. "You don't know Dawn, Rick, but I do. She wouldn't trade you lot under no circumstances, but if she believes there's really another outbreak, something she could help with, her imperative will demand actions need to be taken. She's like that. She strongly believes we're holding up the civilization and the world order would turn one day to how it was before. If we go and show her what we're facing against, she will _feel_ obliged to help."

After her words, Rick gave her a look with a frown. "And _how_ we're going to do it?"

This time she smiled, "Oh, that's easy. We're taking Beth with us to the hospital." She paused, and repeated the younger woman words, "We're gonna show Dawn her germs."

She thought the words would quell down his skepticism, but Rick still looked unconvinced. She took a few steps forward and got closer to him. "Beth is perfect for this. She's the last patient, so she’s stronger. She could take the trip back to the city. And she's—she's…you know…pretty.” She paused to look at him. “Um, we would've left you behind the curbs if we saw injured, but we'd take her in. No questions asked. Dawn _will_ feel obliged. I know it." She drew even closer to him, almost as close as his chest again, but this time there was no carnal images in her mind as she looked at him.

She—she just wanted him to believe in her. "Trust me, please—" Her tone almost turned imploring, "I would've never risked it if I didn't believe it wouldn't work."

His eyes held hers back. "You believe it?"

She nodded without missing a beat. "I do," she said calmly, her voice deep but clear. She hadn't lied. She wouldn't have never risked otherwise neither him nor Beth. It was the truth itself, too, a fact, and she was almost surprised realizing it.

She shook her head a bit, taking a step back. "At hospital we got vaccines for children diseases. Judith needs her vaccines. I can help you to get them too—" she said further. A baby needed her vaccines, especially in this shitty world. She would get them too for the little baby girl. She _would_. "It's not gonna be a picnic, but we can do it. Just trust me."

Perhaps it was the promise of the vaccines, both for his daughter and the sick or her final imploring for his trust, but his eyes still on hers, he slowly nodded. "Okay."

She let out a big, shaking breath, half closing herself, feeling…as if…as if something had lifted her chest off. She—she was going to do this. She took another step back and cleared her throat. "Uh—'kay, let's get you suit up then—" she said then, her eyes turning back to him.

An immediate frown appeared over his brows, "What?"

"Rick—um, I don't want to sound…rude, but Dawn won't take you seriously like _this_." She paused, her eyes wandering over his figure again, this time measuring, "You need to clean up,” she instructed him. “Make your hair a bit, trim your beard… you know, find a shirt without holes if you can manage…" she trailed off with a shrug, "You…um…you look like shit."

Rick gave out a loaded sigh at that, shaking his head, bowing it, "You _really_ know how to make a man feel appreciated…" he muttered as she smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Beth is going back to Grady, he he. All in frankness, I wanted to do something different than them just barging in the hospital, taking it by force, because first it isn't Amanda's style, she spent her little time in canon to avoid bloodshed, she would've never let them storm off like that with machine guns, endangering the rest of her people. For anything else, they didn't have enough manpower to sneak in-I thought it was even pretty much far-fetched to do it at Season 5, but they got more power at Season 5 and Rick state of mind is so different, in his total no mercy state, so I think this works, and more fun, right? Guns blazing all the time is just dull, imo. I mean, look at Season 8. Boring as hell.
> 
> Anyways... hope you liked it, it was great fun for me writing Amanda and Rick getting an inkling of an idea of their attraction to each other with all the rest:)


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII**.

After her rather rude comment that he looked like shit, Rick turned back to reinforcing the fences before they did anything else.

There were always so many things to do, but never enough time, nor enough manpower at that matter. Taking up Maggie's job, Amanda took the trowel and started working to bury the end of the logs in the earth deeper.

A part of him still couldn't believe that he said okay to this bizarre plan. She'd given him that pleading look, green eyes staring at him as if she wanted him to see _her_ , wanted him to believe in her. There was that an unguarded look in her eyes, too, as if she were lowering her shield and letting him in.

_Just trust me._

And then Rick had nodded.

Trusted her.

Was he being an idiot? He didn't know… It just felt—right…trusting her.

It had to work. As bizarre as her plan was, Rick also realized it was the only option they had, unless he went there and started a massacre. Her fiery rejection of that plan was clear. If they followed that path, she would've never stood beside them. So, he was bought into her plan, but she still had to convince the others. Rick _still_ wasn't making decisions alone. Carol—Carol was just different. He'd said okay to this, but others had to support it as well.

Placing another log at the fence, raising it over his shoulders, Rick tossed a look at her again. She was sitting on the ground on folded legs, bent down as she dug out the log's edges with a frown. She lifted her head a second later as if she sensed his gaze.

"Do you think this's a good idea?" she asked, turning to look at the logs. "Why don't you try to put up a wall behind the fences?" she asked. "The fences are too fragile for this. They won't hold up forever."

Rick nodded. "I know—" he admitted, and continued, "If it holds up for now, it's enough. We'll think of something later."

She gave a half nod offhandedly, finishing with the log's butt as Rick went to the truck to take out another one. She dusted off her hands and brought them up. She studied her fingertips…the dirt underneath, Rick noticed, shouldering up the log.

"Look at me," she muttered, shaking her head, "All covered in dirt." She made out a low noise, her eyes lifting, trailing after him. "You guys are rubbing off on me. Might as well listen to my own words, get myself clean—" She stood up, wiping her palms over her uniform pants. "Must look like shit, too."

Lowering the long wooden beam, Rick darted another side look at her. Her white tee was a darker shade of beige now, and her trousers dusted. There were spots of dirt over her cheeks, as well as in her fingertips, and her once strikingly clean hair had started getting really greasy at her fourth day in the prison. Still, she looked good, far from looking like shit.

He propped the long beam at the chain link— "You look good—" He froze for a split second, realizing he said it out loud.

Her head snapped at him, almost startled, and they shared a glance, but this time it lingered. He’d seen it happen just moments ago when he'd yanked her at his chest after the walker grabbed her ankle. Her eyes started having the same glint, light green eyes darkening a shade, sharpening.

It sent a sudden shiver down over his spine, and it felt…wrong. Yet somehow still enthralling, something in him straining. Swallowing lowly, he recalled how he'd driven her back against the bars at the backyard…their face inches apart, so close… Something coiled deep in his stomach, and he _twitched_.

Maggie's voice flashed in his mind… _and she's pretty, isn't she?_

Rick grimaced. He…he was losing it. He must be losing it. There was no other explanation for this short but sudden…surges of lust. It must be that; mutual attraction their bodies _obviously_ felt, if he was to be honest, but he didn't want to.

No.

It'd been too long. It was nearly two years since the last time he’d had sex—before Lori and he started screwing their relationship instead of each other. It was understandable, he told himself. He was a man. And she was…she _was_ pretty. It happened. Bodies felt attracted to each other. It was normal.

He wasn't a teenager high on hormones. He could resist his…urges.

He turned aside, his jaw setting. He pulled back from the log and finishing up with it, intently staring at walkers to get himself to settle down. The tactic worked like a miracle as rotting corpses pushed themselves at the fence, snarling, trying to grab at him.

Then just at the moment, leaping over the log, Amanda asked, "You coming?"

He almost growled louder than walkers, but turning to her, he decided not to dwell on it. Even if it was a real innuendo, he just let it slip by. "Later. We need to talk with the council first."

She frowned. "What?" she asked. "Why?"

"Your plan," he replied dutifully. "You need to lay it out to them,” he said. “Get their permission for Beth. They have to say their piece. I told you I don't make the decisions alone anymore."

She nodded. "Okay, but allow me rephrase," she breathed out. "Why do _I_ have to do it? Can't you talk to them?"

"Your plan, your talk—" he repeated as he started walking away from the fences.

Letting out a sigh, she followed him. "Fine—" she said, catching with him. "But I think they'd take it better if it's _you_ who brings it up." She paused. "Maggie doesn't look like she's…fond of me."

He scoffed. "And I wonder why."

"Hey, I just asked a question," she defended herself. "A very logical one, too." She frowned, turning to him. "You need to separate them. They seem to do _other_ things than checking the perimeters at their shifts."

In silence, Rick heaved a sigh, too, knowing she was right. Inside the blocks there was no real privacy. More than once Rick had caught people sneaking in the dark, shadowed corners of the prison, making out or worse, having sex. He’d tried to walk out unnoticed each time but having private moments was getting harder as they settled down more in the prison. But as watchers, Glenn and Maggie usually passed the night at watch towers, also making perimeter checks, which, just like Amanda had said, didn't look like a good idea anymore.

Rick glanced at her as they climbed the field to the prison and saw her looking at his plants. A second later she turned to him again. "We—uh-we need to prepare a casket of these for Dawn," she told him, gesturing the field with her head.

Rick arched an eyebrow, his pace slowing down a bit. "I thought she wouldn't trade with us under no circumstances."

"No, she wouldn't," she confirmed again. "But this isn't a payment nor it’s a bribe.” Rick gave her another look. “It's a _gift_ ,” she remarked strong with emphasis, tossing a half smirking smile at him… “to show her your gratitude…butter her up, you know, kiss her ass…" She clinked her tongue. "She'd _like_ that."

Rick made a scoff. "Don't worry, Rick," she said then, "She won't only see the carrot. She'll see the stick, too, when she sees you with guns and all. She's smart."

Rick darted at her another look. "You're really good at this—" he commented slowly as they walked side by side. "…politics."

She shrugged. "I got good practice. You pick up stuff growing up and bouncing around foster homes," she remarked so offhandedly so out of blue, hearing the words Rick almost stumbled at his feet.

"Do you think they'll let us take Beth to Grady?” she asked the next moment as if nothing had happened, brushing off her comment. “Her father and sister…they seem to like sheltering her quite a lot." She paused and remarked, turning to him again. "And Maggie doesn't _really_ look like she likes me."

Realizing that she didn’t want to stay on her comment about foster homes, Rick decided to do the same. He didn't even know what to say. She'd dropped the bomb so sudden he—he didn't know. Did he need to say he was sorry? Why had she even admitted it, he had no idea.

"Maggie's a protective big sister," Rick went with her wish, answering her. "Beth had a hard time before, dealing with all of this.” He remembered the teenager’s catatonic state and suicide attempt after Shane had opened the barn. "She managed to get out of it, but they get worried easily."

At his words, Amanda scowled, though. "We all have," she said. "We had this sergeant, big muscles, no-nonsense attitude, a proper sonofabitch you want beside you when you go out to kill rotters. One day…about the end of the first year or something, we were at the commissary for dinner, just eating in silence. Lost another that day. And suddenly, he stood up, started screaming, telling us he couldn't take it anymore. The next moment, he drew his gun and blew his head off."

She shook her head, making a sound, her eyes skipping to him. "It happened so quick we couldn't even understand. I was sitting close to him. His brain—his brain sputtered at my face, in my hair." She swallowed. "I sat down that night, cleaned brain pieces out of my hair." She let out a breath. "They need to stop doing it. Sheltering her all the time, wrapping her in a safety bubble. What if they die and she ends up alone?"

She shook her head again as Rick stayed in silence, her words hitting him close, too, remembering Carl. "And you, too—" and as if she'd read his mind, she told him, "Your son—your son is very brave, Rick, wants to help. If he were mine, I'd have been proud of him."

His head snapped over to look at her, his feet stopping. "I _am_ proud of him."

She stopped, too, looking back at him. "Then show him—" she told him, her voice still matter-of-fact, smooth but deep. "You can try to protect them as much as you want, but you can't take _anything_ for granted in life, especially now. Anything can happen to anyone."

With that, she started walking again. Rick followed her in silence, both only climbing up the slope as in his mind his last words to Carl echoed… _Yeah, maybe, but it's my job to try._

It was. They arrived the fence gate for the blocks and he opened it. She passed through it. "Carol started teaching the kids how to use weapons in the story time in secret before I sent her away," Rick told her then. Amanda paused in her steps, turning to him. "She thought they needed to know. Carl found out about it. Told me. The parents didn't know. I—I let it go, didn't stop her.” He shook his head. "I know we can't protect them always, Amanda, I know… But it's my job to try.”

Her eyes still on him, her expression softening, she gave him a rueful smile. "Because you're a good father, Rick," she repeated. "And your children are really lucky, so lucky to have a father like you. But—" She let out a sigh. "But you know…luck runs out."

# # #

They passed the rest of the way to the library in silence. Rick left her in the halls to look for the others. Amanda was glad to be alone, having a moment to herself too cool down as she had no idea how the talk once again had evolved—talking about families and kids, and fathers' duties… her telling him she'd grown up in foster homes.

Why the hell she'd done it, another thing she'd no idea. It'd just happened. She never tried to hide it deliberately. It always sooner or later came up, but she hated the looks she received whenever someone learned about it, the pity and relief…yeah, the subtle relief underneath, hidden, that sickening relief that if they weren’t lucky, they would've been like that, too. Amanda understood. She never got angry because of it, just bitter perhaps.

When—when Amanda had discovered what happened to her friend, she’d been so afraid, so scared, but even though she couldn’t understand in her childish mind what was really happening to her friend, Amanda knew, she just knew she _didn’t_ want it to happen to herself.

Amanda found her childhood friend after she'd become a cop, too. She'd wanted to…wanted to see her. She found the girl, found her in the cemetery for the destitute, dead because of an overdose before she turned sixteen. She'd escaped her new foster home after they got separated and ended up at the streets.

God, why the hell was she thinking of these things?

_Why?_

She really needed to get back to the hospital. She never thought of her childhood in hospital! There was something about these people that made her lose control, that familiar feel of uneasiness—a disturbance in her. She knew what that meant. Her sixth sense had set off the alarm, a clear warning.

Just after she'd almost begged him to trust her, to believe in her, she got into that _talk_ , and it was all kinds of trouble. She needed to get her shit back together. She couldn't function like _this_. She didn't have time for it. She had a coup to start, and an infection to cure, and a big sister and a sheltering father to convince.

The sick people, Beth…they didn't have time for her childhood’s memories. They needed meds. They needed a cure, proper treatment. They didn't know how long it'd take for the virus go to the last stage and people start bleeding out. They didn't know anything about incubation period or how long Patrick, the patient zero, had had the virus before he dropped dead. Which just proved what Carol had done was…pointless at the end. Killing the sick didn’t cure diseases.

A couple of minutes later, Rick came back, still alone, and stood in front of the room again, not taking a seat, his hand tapping his gun lightly. He did that a lot. When he was in distress or measuring you keenly, trying to decide, like he pinched the bridge of his nose under his bowed head, unconscious habits. They were kind of…good on him. Briefly, she wondered what he was thinking now, his fingers still lightly tapping, thinking of his children, the sick, the disease, _her_?

She almost growled and shook her head. She fucking needed to get a grip of herself.

Luckily for her, the door cracked open, and others came in. First, it was the Greene family patriarch, followed by his daughter, and Daryl, Michonne, and Tyreese, and another tall Afro American guy, Bob or something.

Amanda understood Rick had gathered up all people that might go to Grady, and her eyes turned to the last one, the one who hadn't been with them the last time. "The doc fell ill—" Daryl explained. "Bob was a medic. He's comin' with us."

Amanda nodded, darting a look at Rick. "Rick talked to you?" she asked, trying to clarify where they stood right now.

"He told us you had a plan—" Michonne answered. "That we could try to go ask for _help_." The last word was a bite, snapped off to let Amanda know what the woman was thinking of that.

Amanda held on a sigh, allowing herself another glance at Rick, but he was still in silence, watching her, his hand now stopped. _Your plan, your talk._

It seemed she was still the one who had to do it. Very well. "Before anything you need to know that Rick already agreed with me on this—" she told them what Rick wasn't saying quite unhelpfully, and others turned to him.

Rick gave a nod. "I think it's worth a try."

"The only alternative is guns blazing," she said then with clenched lips after his remark. "And I _won't_ let that happen."

Daryl and Michonne gave her a hard look, but it was Dr. Greene who talked first. "Tell us about your plan."

That Amanda did. She spoke for full five minutes, repeating what she'd told Rick, except the imploring trust-me parts. She tried to make them see how Dawn's mind worked, promising them it would work. When she was finished, they were all in silence for a while before Maggie started speaking.

"Allow me process this—" the older Greene sister said slowly. "You want to take my little sis—my little sick sister to that place?"

Her answer was simple and adamant, not flinching away. "Yes, I do."

" _No way_."

She shook her head. "I need her. It has to be her."

There was a brief silence again, and this time Hershel Greene broke it. "Why? Why does it have to be her? Why not Glenn or another one? They're—"

"Too sick—" Amanda cut off the old man. "First we need to convince Dawn there's still hope. Beth is the last one who got sick. The other's symptoms are getting worse. If they turned worse and Dawn saw them bleeding, she would never let us in." There was also the part that Beth was very pretty with her sunshine hair and doelike eyes, finding a way to pass through people's barriers but Amanda left that part unsaid in front of her father.

"There're others who got sick at the same day with her," Daryl said, but she shook her head.

"Please, listen to me, it gotta be her. I need _her_. She's…she's perfect for this."

"Why?" Michonne asked.

"It's…it's like—" She let out a sigh, trying to find a subtle way to tell it other than saying she was _pretty_. God, how much she hated that word!

"There's something that gets people unwary around her,” Amanda started again, collecting her thoughts. “She's…she was the only person who was friendly with me when I came here first. Everyone asked who I am, but she told me she was Beth, didn't ask me who I am. She's nice and gentle, like…like a nice cute kitten.” She paused for a breath. “Back in the old days, one day we found a little cute kitty in front of our headquarters. One of her paws was hurt. Poor thing couldn't walk, couldn't even open her eyes. We got her inside. We sent for a vet, treated her paw, gave her milk… I—I saw the toughest guys among us fussing over her to heal her. My people…they aren't bad people. There’re some real bastards, but we also have good people. Even Dawn isn't _that_ bad.” 

She wasn’t. Dawn had had her back countless times against IA. Orphan girls grown up in foster homes got investigated a lot of times, especially after they killed drug dealers. “When they see Beth, they’ll want to help her,” Amanda said finally. “Believe me, they will."

She hoped the words would satisfy them, but Maggie had the beginning of a frown at the corner of her mouth that told Amanda plainly otherwise. "So you want her because she's a _pretty_ little kitty?!"

She fucking hated pretty! "Yes!" she shouted, standing up. "Goddammit, yes! I want her because she's pretty and my people wouldn't get tense because of it! I'm gonna ask them to open up our doors to total strangers with guns and unknown germs!” she cried out. “We all need a little bit beauty among all this ugliness, if it's not too much to ask!"

"It's too much to ask," Hershel Greene said, words slow but deliberate, coming out of his depths. "She's our little one."

"She's _not_ a little one!" Amanda insisted. "She's not a baby, not a child. She's a smart teenager who's becoming a young woman. I know you want to protect her, and she's lucky, lucky to have a family like you, but you can't protect her, _not_ all the time. Kids just have to learn fly the nest."

Amanda _really_ hoped this time she managed to settle them down, but Maggie just turned to Rick. " _Rick_! Are you really okay with that?" the woman exclaimed with widened eyes.

Then _finally_ he started speaking, walking to her side. "Amanda's right—" he told them. "We can try, but can't always protect them—" His eyes skipped to her as Amanda let out a breath in relief. "We need those meds and Beth is our best chance." His look then turned to Beth’s father. "Hershel you said nowadays you breath, and you risk our life. Everything we do is a risk, and we need to decide to take it or not. Amanda's right," he repeated again. "Beth isn't a child anymore. She needs to decide herself if she's willing to take the risk or not."

Standing beside him, Amanda started talking again. "Listen, I really want to help you. Rick helped me when he had no reasons to do. I want to return the favor. I like Beth. She's one of the nicest, kindest person I've seen in a long time.” She paused and repeated what she'd told Rick. "I'd never risk her life if I didn't believe it wouldn't work."

Hershel Greene gave her the same look Rick had directed before. "You do? You believe it?"

She nodded all seriousness she could muster up. "Yes, I do."

Hershel nodded at last. "Then we will ask her—" the old man stood up, giving them both a stern look. "But I want both of you to promise me that you _will_ protect her there."

They both nodded at the same time, and spoke, "We will."

# # #

Behind the panel glass, Beth's answer didn't hesitate. "I will—I will come with you."

Maggie still looked like she wasn't liking it, but Mr. Greene nodded his permission. He turned to Amanda— "I'm a lucky man, too—" the old man told her as Rick stood beside her. "To have daughters like them."

And yes, he was.

# # #

When all things settled, they turned back to the library to discuss the details.

Rick felt—he…he honestly didn't know how he felt, only knew he'd made the right call, even though he still didn't like it, letting their children take the risk. But Amanda was really right. They couldn't take anything for granted anymore.

He—he needed to talk with Carl.

Let his kid know just how proud Rick was of him.

As they settled down, Rick started laying out the plan he'd pulled up in his mind since their talk. "We go with two cars. Two groups. Me, Amanda, Beth and Daryl—" he pointed. "And Michonne, you take Bob and Tyreese." He turned to Amanda. "Is it okay?" he asked, "The numbers, is it enough?"

He couldn't take more. They still might need to defend the fences. "I want to come, too," Maggie cut in, turning to her dad. "Dad—you—you can take care of Glenn?"

Hershel nodded, but Rick shook his head. "No. We still need you here. The fences have to be protected."

"Michonne can stay,” Maggie opposed. “Her ankle is still hurt. I go."

Rick nodded, as the same time Michonne did. "We leave in the morning—" He turned to Amanda again. "You're ready for this?"

In a heartbeat, she nodded, but she looked…tired.

When the others left the room, she propped her forehead on her palm, resting her elbows on the table. Her eyes closed under her bowed head. "Amanda—are you—are you really up to this?"

She nodded again, only moving her head, "Yeah…I'm just—" She let out a sigh, and a small laugh followed as she opened her eyes. "You fathers…big sisters…" she mumbled. "You've tired me." Lowering her hand down, she lifted her eyes at him. "I guess I just don't have practice dealing with it."

Rick understood the words. He gave her a look, something seizing in his chest. "I'm sorry," he muttered, and words felt…empty, hollow, meaningless, but there was nothing else he could say.

She nodded wordlessly and stood up to walk the door. "Amanda—" he called after her.

She stopped in her steps, turned aside to listen. "Thank ya—" he told her then, and really meant it. "Thank ya for doing this."

She smiled at him over her shoulder. "It's the least I can do for you, Rick," she repeated the same words, but this time continued. "You really didn't have to help me out there in the woods."

No, he hadn't, but he…he'd wanted to.

# # #

He found Carl later in the night.

"How is Judy?" he asked his son in the empty, scattered hall as they sat apart from each other at the separate corners.

"She's fine—" Carl answered, placid, not liking that he was again being left behind, his son always wanting to help. And Rick? Rick was really proud. "Are you going tomorrow?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah. In the morning. I—I'll try to come back as soon as possible."

Carl nodded, then lifted his head up. "Dad—I—I really want to help. Can I come?"

Rick shook his head. "We're already too crowded," he said. "Amanda doesn't want us to go like an army." His shoulders hunched, his son nodded again, bowing his head.

Rick made up his mind. "Michonne’s staying. We need to defend fences, reinforce them. You—you can help her if you want…" He paused. "If you're willing to take the risk."

Like Beth, there was no hesitation in Carl, as well. "I am," he answered. "I will."

Rick nodded, standing up. "Come out in the morning, then—" he told his son, and gave him a last look before he turned around. Tomorrow he could go out and take the risk, but they were going to be fine.

Before he walked out, Carl stopped him at the door. "Dad—what's changed your mind?"

Rick gave his son a look over his shoulder. "A smart woman told me kids have to learn fly the nest."

And fathers had to learn to watch them.


	9. Chapter 9

**IX.**

Silently bristling with anticipation, Amanda was this close to screaming at them to be quick. Daryl and Tyreese were stuffing the packages in the back of two cars, the light green Hyundai Tucson and the black Dodge Charger as Maggie filled the fuel tanks.

Anticipation or not, Amanda was ready to return to Grady, or at least on the outside. Last night after the meeting, she'd followed up her own advice. She’d gone to the cold, damp laundry room in the block that they turned to showers and started cleaning up.

First, she took off her uniform, pulling her flower out of her pocket carefully, and had a quick shower. She scrubbed all the dirt of the last days off her skin, washing her hair last. She then wrapped herself with a sheet she found spread over a thin wire in the room and started doing some laundry.

It’d been a long time since she did any real laundry. At Grady, it was always the wards that dealt with their laundry and other chores. As she tried to clean blood from her uniform and bulletproof vest Amanda remembered how much she _hated_ it.

But she was going back to the hospital, so she had to do it. So, she did. She washed and dried it over the chair and table in her cell during the night and slept with the sheet wrapped around herself, acutely aware what they might've thought of her if they saw her like this…what Rick would've said…

Crazy? Sleeping in the middle of the apocalypse within a sheet because she didn't want to return to her people looking like shit? At Grady everything was so much simpler: follow the protocol, follow the rules…but at the prison…everything had shifted.

So, she laid in the bed, naked with a folded sheet around her body, feeling hot tears in her eyes before she forced herself to sleep. Her hand was still holding the single flower tightly.

Now, she stood again in her uniform, with her shirt and vest and all, as clean as the day she'd left the hospital. Her hair pulled was up in a tight bun again, no frizzy hair out of the corners. Amanda was going back where she belonged.

Standing at the main gate, her eyes drew towards the looming mass of the prison at the horizon, her eyes pricking—she swallowed and turned her gaze away.

It wouldn't do any good—getting sentimental. And she was being ridiculous, too. She'd been here…what five days? It wasn't like that she spent five years with these people. The most of those five days were utterly and completely shitty, too. She'd almost gotten eaten in her sleep, infected, punched in her face…

From the gate, Beth and her father started coming out, climbing down toward them. Amanda saw the girl carrying a board in her hands, and immediately recognized it. Something pinched in her chest worse.

Beth’s mouth was covered with a red handkerchief up to close to her nose, but Amanda still saw her half-tired smile as she stopped with her father in front of the cars.

The young girl extended the board to her. "Beth, you—" Amanda started but the teenager cut her off.

"No—" she said with a soft voice, her voice muffled under the cloth. She looked tired, weary. Even her wide blue eyes had a tiredness in them. "I want you to take it,” Beth continued. “I want you to remember us—remember the prison, Amanda," she gestured with her head. "We're very grateful to you."

And here she was trying _not_ to get sentimental… "I haven't still done _anything_ ," she said, but took the board. It felt…wrong to take it, the board meant something for the girl, but she just couldn't help herself. "And I wouldn't ever forget you."

Again, under the cloth, Amanda saw her half smile. "How’re you holding up?" she asked the young girl.

"Good—" Beth said bravely. "My throat hurts, and I've got a headache, and I think—I lost my sense of taste, but I'm good." There was a pause before she continued. "Others aren't, though."

Amanda nodded, turning to her father. "I'll send them back as soon as possible, I swear," she promised the old man. "Even tomorrow morning, if I can."

Dr. Greene nodded. "We're waiting—" the old man told her placidly, his voice deliberately calm, soothing as he voiced each word, "It's…it gets harder."

Swallowing, Amanda nodded.

Finishing with the fuel tanks, Maggie came to their side. "We're good to go," the young woman announced. "Where's Rick?"

Yeah. Good question.

The man was not sighted since last night after they'd left each other at the library.

Turning toward them, closing the trunk, it was Daryl who answered the inquiry. "He's checkin' out the perimeters with Michonne and Carl—" He brought his two fingers to his mouth and whistled. The short but stark sound echoed in the air. Half a minute later, from their left, Amanda saw Rick walking toward them, flanked by his son and Michonne.

So…he really let his son out. Amanda didn't know what to think of it, so she turned away, holding the board against her side. Suddenly she just wished to be done with this…farewell, something twisting in her insides.

As they got closer, her eyes darted to him again. Then Amanda _noticed_ , her eyes stuck…

He was cleaned up. He was still wearing his dark navy shirt with his jeans, his shirt's stitches still coming apart at the seams, but it was cleaner now. He’d rolled up the sleeves of the shirt over his forearms, Amanda saw no stains. His hair was shortened at the end of his neck, his beard trimmed over his jawline, chiseled. He—he looked younger, not to mention much more handsome. No. He definitely didn't look like shit as he marched toward them over the steep grounds. She forced her eyes away as he started firing questions.

"We ready?" he asked first to Daryl, approaching as the hunter nodded in answer.

"Yeah."

Rick nodded back, and his eyes shifted to Beth, assessing the teenager. "Beth—ya good?" he asked, still walking, Carl and Michonne following him.

Beth gave him a short, but definite answer, "Yes, I am."

He stopped in front of Hershel. "How's in A Block?"

"It's getting worse," the old man informed him. "I'll try to do my best. But you need to hurry."

His head bobbed as Amanda repeated again. "We will, but we need to get going now."

His eyes skipped to her for a second before he started moving to the cars. "You heard the officer, people. Let's go—" He turned aside toward Michonne and his son. "Michonne, keep an eye on the fences all the time." The Afro-American woman gave back a short nod, and Rick looked at his son. "Carl—be careful. Don't take any chances."

"I won't, Dad—" the boy said seriously. "Stay safe."

Wordlessly, he nodded at his son, and stopped in front of the light green car's driver seat. Beth and Maggie got in the backseat. Daryl and his team, Tyreese and the medic, stepped in the other car. From the other side, Rick leaned over the car propping his right hand on the roof. His other held the door’s handle, and he _finally_ remembered her presence. "You're okay?"

Instead of answering him, she walked around the car to the driver seat. "I drive," she remarked, holding up her palm in the air. He gave her back a half arched eyebrow. "I know the road better,” she said tersely. “I've been doing this for two years. I drive."

Without a word, he dropped the keys in her palm. His eyes were on hers, then they moved over her face…her hair, taking them in sight. She felt another disturbance again. "You cleaned up this morning?" she inquired lowly.

He shook his head. "Last night."

She frowned. "So did I. How come we didn't see each other?" she questioned, her brows furrowing. She'd spent _hours_ in the laundry room last night.

"Who says I didn't?" he asked. Suddenly Amanda felt heat spreading up over her neck as she glanced back at him. "You—um—you were quite taken with your laundry," Rick told her then, bowing his head a little, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Didn't want to disturb you."

Feeling the fire burning over her now, she gave a half nod and quickly moved toward the back of the car. She put the board in the trunk as his eyes trailed after her. He squinted at the board, walking to the passenger seat. "What's that?"

"It's Beth's farewell gift—" Amanda answered fast, placing the board further inside. "She gave it to me."

His eyes on hers again, Rick gave her a silent look as she closed the hatch door before he stepped in the car. Amanda followed his example and slipped in. She started the motor.

Carl started dragging the ropes down with Michonne to open the gate. Amanda drove out as the silhouette of the prison in the early morning slowly moved away in the rear mirror.

# # #

Beth coughed, moving the cloth over her mouth further to close her nose fully in the silence of the car. Twisting his neck aside, Rick looked back to check her as Beth drew her head backwards with fatigue. "You're okay?" Rick asked, catching Amanda throwing a glance at the back in the rear mirror with the corner of his eye too.

Beth nodded in answer, mumbling. "My head—it hurts."

"Might be because of dehydration," Maggie said, quickly reaching to grab a bottle of water. She opened it and gave it to her sister.

Her eyes closed, still resting over the headrest, Beth nodded again. Maggie leaned forward over them between the seats. "How long would it take?" the older Greene questioned.

"About an hour," Amanda answered, leading their two-car cortege, her eyes fixed on the road firmly. "We got about forty miles. It'd be shorter if we took I-75 North, but we had problems there while we drove away from the city," she supplied in. "I'm gonna take highway 85 first, then I-85 North's old side road. It's gonna lengthen it, but it's safer."

Her direct answer seemed to quell Maggie as she drew back between from the seat. Rick tossed a glance at her as she drove at the road. The way she looked while they left the prison had vanished in her expressionless face.

She seemed like in her full cop mode now—her right hand on the gear, her left elbow propped at the windowsill as she steered the wheel with an expert ease. She looked so different from the woman Rick had seen last night in the laundry room.

Rick had decided to heed her words last night, so after leaving Carl, making a last tour around the fences, he picked up a pair of scissors and went to the laundry room. He just wanted to get himself cleaned up a bit, but instead had one of the most bizarre encounters of his life.

On the tiles, she was hovering over her vest on her hands and knees, her back to him, and a folded sheet wrapped around her body. It barely covered her hips, leaving lower parts of her body bare. Her soft brown hair was loose and wet, falling over her shoulders. Her whole body was wet with water drops, slowly slipping off her bare skin as he realized she'd just hopped out of the shower and was cleaning her uniform.

And she was naked— _clearly_ naked under the thin white fabric, all of her figure—all her…assets visible to his eyes as she scrubbed the vest fiercely, almost demented, utterly oblivious to his presence.

Stuck in his place, his feet rooted to the ground, the scissors still in his hand, Rick watched her under the dim moonlight through the barred windows. She moved on her knees, one hand propped on the ground as the other held the brush that she used for scrubbing…

With every move, her body swung back and forth, the sheet moving up and up over her hips…Rick snapped his head upward, catching a glimpse of her round, tight bottom, and inside his jeans he started getting hardened so much it actually started hurting.

Quickly he slipped off then as silent as a ghost, leaving her alone before any more embarrassing moments would occur. Before he left the laundry room, he saw the rest of her uniform laying over a chair in a heap, waiting to be cleaned, and over the top there was the flower he'd given her.

He cleaned up himself in the yard with _cold_ water from one of the water tanks after that. He trimmed his beard in his cell, cut his hair a bit, and spent the rest of night staring at the bottom of the top bunk laying in the bed.

When it was finally morning, he left the bed, found Carl and Michonne, and made a last tour around the perimeters as he got his shit together. Perhaps, perhaps it was really a good thing she hadn't wanted to stay.

This…this attraction thing was going out of control. And Rick didn't know how to feel about that.

His musings got interrupted when Beth coughed again. Maggie came forward over them between their seats once more. "How're we going to do this?" she asked. "What's the plan?"

Well, she was going to need to make contact first with her people, let them know she was _still_ alive. "I'm gonna stop somewhere close to Grady and call in," she answered, her voice plain. "We try to keep the blocks around us clean, so we could wait there for a bit while I make the contact. Then we'll wait. I'll code in for an ID challenge—"

Maggie interrupted her, "What's that?"

She waved a hand at him as if to instruct him to explain. Rick decided to humor her. "It's a word challenge,” he intoned. “The standard procedure when you return from MIA. When you make your return, they challenge you to make sure everything is okay. There are two responses: one for duress, the other for normal. So, with your answer they measure the situation better."

Maggie bobbed her head. "It's neat."

Out of the corner of his eye, Rick caught Amanda's eyebrows pulling up together from her profile. Her hair tightly pinned up in a bun again, but suddenly the way her wet loose hair fell over her shoulders flashed in his mind. Rick drove away the scene as her eyes darted to him from the road. "Don't you do it?" she asked, the frown also in her tone.

"We don't have radio," Rick answered. “The equipment in the prison was broken.”

With that, she shut up with a curt nod, but Maggie asked further. "And then?"

"And well, I'll debrief her about the situation and require entrance to the hospital—" She paused. "She will possibly want to see us outside before she lets us in, though."

"And what if she won't?" the older Green kept questioning, leaning over them more in the empty space between the seats.

Amanda's lips clenched with the question, but before she could answer it, Beth talked from behind them. "Maggie, Amanda believes they will,” the teenager said with a weak but firm voice. “It wouldn't hurt you to have a little bit of faith."

Hearing the words from her sister, Maggie drew back against her seat. From her profile, Rick saw Amanda's lips loosened as a brief half smile crossed over them.

# # #

Her eyes fixed ahead on the road, Amanda drove, but it was hard to keep her mind on the track as Rick kept giving her those glances. They almost made her…squirm, and when had she _ever_ squirmed under a man's gaze?

This…whatever it was had to stop. She had other things to worry about! _You—um—you were quite taken with your laundry._

Yet the statement still echoed in her mind. Ugh.

So, he'd seen her. But _how_? She'd washed her uniform inside the ceramic wash basin in the room, but for her vest she had to kneel down on the ground and something…something was telling her it was the latter. He saw her on her knees and hands on the floor, wrapped within a sheet, scrubbing the hell of her vest like a madwoman.

God, how far things would get awkward between them?

She really wished this to be done now—wanted her old life back. She didn't like this awkwardness, this…disturbance in her.

They didn't have trouble on the road as Amanda knew almost all of the roads that had a better chance to make it to the city. Nope. They didn't survive this long in downtown because they were dummies. They always put a good track for quick getaways if things turned ugly and they had to get out. They even kept the funeral home of the Grady's former managing board ready as their safe house, kept it clean and loaded. They didn’t have much of an arsenal to stash, but they managed to secure an ample amount of other supplies.

As she took the turn for I-85 North's side road, getting closer to the city, her anxiety regarding _the washing_ _situation_ slowly dissipated. Instead she started getting worried about stuff she should've been worried about in the first place.

Was she really going back to…home?

She almost let out a snort. Grady and home sounded like the best oxymoron she'd ever heard. Yet, she was going back, and even though she didn't want to doubt herself, the little voices in her mind started muttering…what ifs…

 _It wouldn't hurt you to have a little bit of faith…_ she told herself Beth's words.

She knew it. She believed it. She'd promised them. She shouldn't doubt herself. She was going to protect Beth and get them the help they needed. She was going to put things back together in Grady: no more bruised wrists, beaten faces, or wet old, wrinkled faces with tears.

No.

Not if Amanda had a say in it.

Dear god… when she'd become this…do-gooder?

God! She’d been so certain last night with Rick and the rest. It—it almost started feeling like that had been another woman, someone else… It felt odd, feeling like this… _caring_.

She had her colleagues, partners, and acquaintances with _benefits_ , but she'd hardly ever cared for them for real. They all had used to have a life, a real life beyond work, something Amanda had never bothered herself with it.

Lamson was a good baseball player, a good father, and a good husband. Dawn had used to have a husband which she divorced a couple of years before the turn, but still stayed in contact. Even Gorman used to have a family, a wife and kid. He used to bring up her soccer games and kept yammering about it all day. They used to dig at her at the family picnics of the department that Hanson forced her to attend.

Amanda used to stay aside on the lawn in those gatherings, circled with all those _families_ , children high on sugar running and screaming, men drinking and working the grill-uniforms off, women laughing and gossiping, all the while she felt like an alien from another world among them, like a unfitting piece of a puzzle that no one knew where to put in.

How she fucking hated it. She would've preferred to go to a drug bust with Narcotics instead of that anytime. She used to return from the mandatory events with a headache so bad she drank herself into oblivion after she fed her goldfish.

Her goldfish…she remembered then… her goldfish… How she missed the shiny little peach colored cutie, feeding her and smiling after work and in the morning as she swam lazily in the bowl… Perhaps the only real thing she'd lost in her old life.

Her goldfish. She deeply missed her goldfish, and she was fucking surprised she hadn't thought of it until now… selfish, fucking selfish bitch…

Her bitter thoughts came to a halt as the city's grand half-burned half-destroyed landscape started slowly looming through the windshield of the car.

That sight never got old. Never.

Rick's stern yet heavy blue eyes were staring at it intently, his jaw—clean cut with trimmed beard- clenched hard. Amanda darted a glance backward and saw the girls in the backseat staring in amazement. Beth had even inclined her head a bit more at the headrest toward the side glass to see better as Amanda drove toward the city.

Toward where she belonged.

# # #

As they passed over the Jackson Street Bridge, the landscape of the destroyed city approaching closer, Rick heard Beth and Maggie take a hitched breath as Amanda's face got hardened even further.

She was preparing herself. During on the way, he felt the tension rising in her, radiating out of her like radio waves, the struggle she obviously felt. Rick couldn’t keep his eyes off her, his eyes skipping toward her, a tension balling in his stomach, as well.

Now Rick was watching the city. Something felt undeniably wrong, too, as he stared at the sight in front of him. It was almost two years now since Rick had escaped from downtown with Glenn and others and found his family. Almost two years since the world they knew had turned upside down.

Maggie let out another hitched breath from behind as Beth coughed again. "I—I heard about the bombings," the older Greene spoke softly, almost in reverence, her eyes on the desolated city landscape in the pale morning sun. "But—but this—this…" she trailed off.

"It started out of nowhere—" Amanda stated, her eyes at the road too, her voice as cool as her expression. "We didn't even receive a warning. We were sent to evacuate Grady. It just started as we carried people to EVAC spots. Lost a lot of us at the first blast.” She paused for a little while before she could continue again, certainly remembering those days.

"I guess they realized they lost control of the situation and decided to wipe out the city." She paused again. "Napalm…” she muttered, “you still smell it in the air over the death scents. But it made things more of a mess. We quickly gathered what happened after seeing the dead bodies from the bombings, blown up into smithereens but still coming back, no bites or anything. Realized we're all infected."

Rick tried to imagine how it’d been learning from the very beginning that there was no hope for them anymore. He recalled how she'd said her colleague suddenly stood up and shot himself at the head. Things had been hard for them in the wild, harsh on the road, but this was another thing…this hopelessness.

"How do you manage in the city?" Beth asked roughly through the cloth over her mouth. "Isn't it harder?"

Amanda shrugged as they got closer to the downtown. "It is, but Grady got good supplies. It's a _big_ hospital, has a lot of clinics. There're still many wings we haven't still cleared out yet. Warehouses, storage units, cold storage units. We also make runs, gather supplies. We manage."

Rick shook his head. "No. Not in the long run—" he told her. "You have to leave the city and start a community like we did. Grow your own food. You can't depend on the canned and prepared food always. They’ll get spoiled one day."

With a sigh, she nodded. "I know. Sometimes we talk of leaving, but Dawn’s always put it down," she confessed. "She—she believes they will come back."

Twisting at her, Rick gave her a look, "Who?"

" _They_ —" she said, shrugging off. "Someone… They’ll come back one day, and the world will turn the way it's supposed to." She paused. "We just gotta hold up until then."

The way she uttered the words made Rick wonder if they were of her superior, not hers. From the backseat Beth perked up. "Do—do you really believe that?" the teenager questioned, lifting the cloth up to speak clearer. "That there's actually going back from this?"

She was in silence at first, then slowly answered in a whisper, "I want to."

# # #

They fell into another silence after her statement, each in their own world as Amanda just drove toward downtown, trying to block off everything else. Her eyes were alert now, looking for trouble from everywhere. She knew these roads, streets, and sideways like she knew herself, but each time this world managed to prove her wrong.

 _You can't take anything for granted, bitch,_ the world always seemed to like to remind her.

God, she was so tense, so strained, she felt she could—snap.

She took another turn, checking for the black Dodge through the rear window. Lowering the window, she extended her arm out and made a fist in the air as she slowed at the end of the street.

They were close to the plaza where Grady Memorial Hospital stood majestically, half destructed, charred black, half burnt. When she lifted her head, arching it aside, she saw it through the windshield.

 _I want to._ And she did, she really did.

Daryl stopped beside the green Hyundai. Maggie was the first one to step out, quickly running to the other side so she could help Beth to get out. Amanda closed her eyes for a second, preparing herself, breathing deeply.

She could feel Rick's stare on her, but she didn't open her eyes. She didn't look at him, but she wished he stopped doing it and just gave her a moment… She was going to do this. She was—

"Amanda—" She opened her eyes and looked ahead. "Whatever will happen up there—” he told her, his eyes still on her. “We're into this together. We got your back."

She turned to him, swallowing through a lump in her throat. "Thank you." Her voice was so throaty, low in her throat she stopped a second to clear it. "Thank you for doing this, too, Rick."

He gave her a brief nod back, and opening the door, he stepped out of the car.

Amanda stayed only a second in the car after him, giving another look at the Grady’s silhouette. Her face setting in, she opened the door and got out.

She marched toward the other group as Rick was already ordering to set up a perimeter. "Daryl—you take point—" he talked to the hunter, voice placid and down to business, the short moment in the car finished.

He was in the leader mode, the sheriff, his arm raised, pointing, his hip jutted forward as he gave his orders. "Tyreese, you have our six." He turned to the sisters. "Maggie, you and Bob are with Beth—Ya okay?" he asked the teenager, leaning down to catch her eyes.

Beth nodded. "I am—" she said bravely again, and told them, "Let's do it."

Rick gave a nod. "A’right, people, you heard the young lady." He then turned to her, stern intent eyes staring at her openly. "Amanda—call in."

Giving out a breath, bracing herself, Amanda reached for her radio.

# # #

Rick watched her as she brought her hand up and pushed the talk button of the radio on her shoulder, shutting his mind off everything but the moment.

"Alpha zero-zero, this's Charlie two-one," she called in her callsign. "Do you copy?"

She let off the button, and waited…nothing but the static on the other side… She reached out and tried again. "This's Charlie two-one—" she repeated. "Do you copy?"

Again static, then a male voice came: "Charlie two-one, this's Bravo one-three, say again—over," the other side demanded a repeat of the last transmission.

She paused a second, then spoke again, pushing the button, "This _is_ Charlie two-one," she repeated and went on, leaving off the procedure words. "I need to talk with Dawn. Get her. _Now!_ "

"Shepherd?" the male officer finally uttered back with astonishment. "We thought you dead."

She pressed on the button again, her face getting cross, her lips flattened, and bit off back. "Sorry to disappoint."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, with this chapter, well, nothing continued happening, really, aside Rick getting a real hard-on, of course. Poor guy :) That scene got stuck in my mind somehow... as I pictured Amanda crazily trying to get blood off her uniform because she's turning back to Grady, quasi having a breakdown, totally naked wrapped in a sheet, and Rick catching her like that, then slips off away. It's sad and hot, I guess.
> 
> I also just would picture her standing in the middle of all those families in a picnic, being forced to attend, and feel like a sore thumb, a misfit. I plan to play with that idea for a while in the prison before it falls, and dear god, I somehow have to make her get a goldfish now!
> 
> PS. Police ten-codes is usually different than military or aviation codes and procedure words, but I wanted to use it like this before Amanda switched it back to normal.


	10. Chapter 10

**X.**

"Charlie two-one, wait-out," the last order came quickly from Licari as Amanda listened to static again after her quip— _sorry to disappoint._ Charlie two-one was still kicking, breathing.

But was he disappointed?

She didn't know.

Licari was one of the officers among them that had rank, being a sergeant himself like Lamson and Gorman. He stood between Lamson and Gorman's factions, never taking anyone’s side. He had no alliances to anyone, only served himself.

The hierarchy among them in the last months had become even more complicated. Amanda had become an _unofficial_ sergeant as Dawn had promoted her this year herself. All in honesty no one had taken it seriously, only humored their commanding officer.

Amanda had been waiting on the promotion before the turn. Dawn was breathing down her neck about it all the time, trying to push her as Amanda was dragging her feet—debating with herself if she really wanted it—being a sergeant meant a lot of responsibilities, and well, frankly, Amanda never had big ambitions.

She wished now she hadn't done it, hadn't dragged her feet, but got promoted officially so she would've been now better equipped to deal with this.

_Well, if wishes were horses…_

She wondered if Gorman and his pals were at the hospital or out on a run. Or Lamson. She needed him. If Lamson was out on a run, this was going to get harder _. It wouldn't hurt you to have a bit of faith…_ she reminded herself of Beth's words again as she let out a sigh.

Bowing her head, she gazed at the asphalt as her people were possibly still trying to wrap around their heads that Amanda Shepherd had come back from the dead.

Well, when she put it like that, it sounded rather dramatic. She quickly darted her eyes around, trying to see the others. Daryl and Rick watched with keen, alert eyes as Beth leaned against the door, still looking tired. They needed to fucking hurry. Where the hell was Dawn?

Maggie passed her hand over her sister's forehead and made her sip water from an old bottle. "When will they call back?" the older Greene asked as Rick walked back to them. "Beth needs to rest."

Amanda nodded. "I know. They're trying to find Dawn. I—I just turned back from being dead seconds ago—" she said and turned to Beth. "You okay?" she asked, getting closer to the teenager.

Beth gave a nod in silence. Her face was so pale, the dark circles under her eyes, the bright blues getting dimmed… Daryl suddenly shot his crossbow, nailing a rotter with a bolt.

They needed to hurry. She almost reached to her radio to call in again, but it crackled before she did.

And, Amanda had never been this fucking happy to hear the no-nonsense, firm, curt voice of their highest ranking officer, Lieutenant Dawn Lerner. "Charlie two-one, this's Alpha zero-zero," she supplied over the static, sounding placid. "Proceed with ID Challenge. Albatros."

_Finally._

With a glance at Rick, she grabbed her shoulder and pressed the talk button. "Affirmative—" she fulfilled the request quickly. "Response—Ruby—" she said, and repeated, "I say again. Response Ruby."

Her normal response call was Ruby, as distress was Emerald. Hearing of her normal response code, Dawn talked quickly, too. "Brief—" she ordered, "You're alone or with company?"

"With company. Not hostile. Four men, two women. Armed. Repeat. Not hostile," she repeated. "We got one sick." She paused for a moment, and demanded, "Request entry. Over."

"Negative—" the answer came back without missing a beat, of course. "Clarify. Over."

Well, she never believed it would've been that easy. "We encountered a sort of a flu," she _clarified_. "She needs treatment. It might be a pandemic. People started getting sick. They need help."

There was a silence from the other side, and Amanda tried again. "Ma'am, she's one of the good ones—" she told her then slowly, dropping her voice into a whisper, knowing the words were going to move Dawn. "I _vouch_ for them. They helped me when they didn't have any reason to do so." She stopped, and requested again, "Request entry. Over."

Another silence, then the radio cracked up. "Negative," she still insisted. "Infection. Clarify. Over."

"We don't know if we got it. We don't feel sick," she answered, switching to normal speech again. "We _are_ what is left from the world order, you always say. Come out and see for yourself. She's one of the good ones.” She needed to see Beth. Amanda needed to make her see _Beth_.

Another silence as they all looked at her, waiting… then another crack. "Come to the parking lot," the lieutenant finally ordered.

Closing her eyes for a split second, Amanda let out a breath before she pressed on the mechanism again. "Roger. ETA. Five minutes."

"Roger. Out."

She dropped her hand at her side as they gave her a look. Everyone looked…relieved that she'd managed to convince Dawn to talk to them face to face at least, but Amanda frowned.

Quickly catching her furrowing brows, Rick took a step closer to her. "What's it?" he asked heatedly. "What happened?"

She raised her eyes up at him. "She didn't ask anything about Gorman."

Then Rick frowned, too.

# # #

Neat. Pristine. Immaculate.

With one look, Rick understood with a perfect clarity what Amanda had been telling them about their highest-ranking officer.

The woman had the deepest, yet the coldest blue eyes Rick had ever seen. She has black hair, precisely trimmed over the right side of her head more and pinned up at the back of her neck. There wasn't even a single strand of hair escaping from her bun, her uniform spotless, and her face meticulously clean. Rick noticed with wonderment that she was actually wearing a light nude tone lipstick.

 _You don't know Dawn,_ Amanda had told him, and now Rick did. It was—it was madness, miraculous but madness. She stood in a such a stark contrast with everything around her, it looked like she was challenging the whole world in an unspoken bold manner.

Her officers were standing behind her, five flanking her at the main entrance. The lieutenant climbed down the stairs slowly. Behind them Rick caught sight of a man standing, a man with a doctor's white coat. Dawn stopped at the last step, her gaze never wavering from Amanda, staring at her intently.

Amanda took a step forward. "Ma'am—"

"Is it her—?" the woman gestured with her towards Beth, stopping Amanda with a raised hand to put a safe distance between them, ten or so feet.

Her steps halting, Amanda nodded in response.

The woman's eyes turned to Beth then. She regarded the young girl heavily, her head angling a bit. "She looks weak."

Maggie sucked in a sharp breath. Rick took a step forward from behind Amanda. "She's not weak. She needs help," he said, and introduced himself. "I'm Rick Grimes, Sheriff's Deputy of King County."

The words got the commanding officer's attention.

The dark blue eyes turned at him. The woman gave Rick an open scrutiny in her long look, taking in his appearance, her eyes unabashedly roaming over him. Rick could swear he saw a light twitch at the corner of her lips.

Yet, it didn't turn into a full scowl. For a second, Rick felt glad that he'd heeded Amanda's advice and got himself cleaned up, so that the lieutenant wouldn't have _stooped_ that low. "Officer Shepherd told us you could help us with this disease," he remarked firmly. "Can you?"

"How did you meet with Officer Shepherd?" the woman asked him back.

Before Rick could answer, Amanda opened her mouth. "Ma'am—" but Dawn cut her off, cold blue eyes snapping at her green ones, annoyed.

"I _am_ talking to Deputy Grimes, Shepherd," she snapped, her voice not raised, still calm but cold as icy winter wind. Amanda tensed, her face turning even more expressionless. "You speak when you're addressed to."

The woman turned her attention back to him. "Yes, Deputy?"

"We met in the woods out of the city. She was in the vicinity where we set up our camp.” The prison at the end was their camp at first. "She was running away from walkers."

The woman arched her eyebrow. "And you helped her?"

His answer didn't hesitate. "Yes. She spent the night with us. She was going to leave the next morning but one of our people got sick. The others followed. About ten. We've got a doctor, and Bob—" He pointed at the tall man, "is a medic. They told us it might be a version of swine flu. We don't know.” He paused. “We—we also bring you some of our food—" He gestured with his head toward the casket Daryl left at the ground, taking it out of the trunk as Amanda let out a small, subsided sigh.

Rick realized he'd made a mistake as Dawn's pristine face became furious, her tightened bright lips having a full scowl this time. "Are you trying to bribe me, Deputy Grimes?"

"No—" he quickly opposed, remembering Amanda's words. "We grow our own food. We wanted to show our gratitude. People still can help each other. It's a gift. Nothing else."

Her lips loosened a bit, and the woman made a voice. "Hmm."

Rick pointed back towards Daryl, who was still the most roughish of their group. "This's Daryl. He's a hunter, he provides for us—" Rick introduced the rest of them, too, but Dawn gave Daryl such a look full of contempt Rick almost turned around and left. He gave out a sharp breath in silence, forcing himself to calm down, and moved his arm towards Maggie. "This's Maggie. She's Beth's big sister. And this's Tyreese."

The blue eyes flickered at Tyreese and her frown returned. "What happened to his face?"

Well… Rick had still a slight bruise over his eyebrow too, where Tyreese's first punches split it up, since yesterday it'd started to heal up even though he couldn't say the same thing for his hand. His knuckles and hand were still wrapped, and Rick wondered if the woman could connect the dots together seeing Tyreese's face. "There was a fight," Rick answered shortly and took another step toward the woman.

At the same time hands went to hips, the holsters unclicked—

Rick raised his hands in the air. "Look—we came here in peace because _Amanda_ —" he deliberately put an emphasis in her name as the woman arched an eyebrow. "—told us you could help our people. Beth's sick, she needs to rest. Will you help us or we're wasting our time here?"

Dawn gave him a serious look after that. "You're direct. I respect that." She swiftly turned to Amanda. "Do you vouch for them?" the woman asked.

Amanda nodded, and quickly uttered, "Yes, Ma'am."

"Okay—" the woman then said. "We'll need to prepare first for your entry. We can't take you in like this. We can't risk it. We've got sick people, too."

Rick nodded. "We understand—" The woman made a move to go back into the hospital, but suddenly taking a step forward, Amanda called behind her back.

"Ma'am—" Her voice was clear, but there was something else in it too, something Rick couldn't exactly name. "You didn't ask what happened to me."

The lieutenant turned back at her, cold, cool blue eyes on her. "We _know_ what happened to you, Shepherd. Gorman told us. You couldn't keep up. You stayed behind." She paused. "Now we're glad to have you back to us."

With that, she turned again and started climbing up the stairs as Amanda stood like a statue cast off stone.

# # #

_You stayed behind… You stayed behind… You stayed behind…_

The words turned and turned and turned in her mind like an echo in a deep cavern, empty and deserted… She suddenly felt cold, like all of her blood drained out of her as she realized what Dawn was doing with clarity. Then she started laughing. Hysterical little laughs ripped out of her because it seemed better than the alternative; dropping on her knees and crying a bit. Because it was still funny, and karma _really_ was a bitch.

She guessed she deserved this. After all the things she'd done—and things she _hadn't_ …all the time she'd turned her head to the other side, she deserved this.

Rick's head snapped toward her as she started laughing like a madwoman. Perhaps she was mad—sometimes it was getting hard to decide. The way she cleaned her uniform flashed in her mind with the words… _you stayed behind_. She put her hand on her forehead, driving her head back, _still_ laughing.

"Amanda—" Rick called out, worry in his tone.

She shook her head. "I guess this is how _it_ feels…" she muttered out and twisted to him. "Karma is a bitch, isn't she?"

Rick frowned. He was about to say something, but Amanda cut him off. "She's looking at the other side, Rick. She knows what Gorman did, and she's letting it go." She swallowed. "Like we _always_ do."

# # #

Her words came like a blow. Rick knew how true they were, how they’d been doing this always—turning a blind eye whenever it suited their interests better.

For a brief moment, he remembered the hitchhiker they'd passed by at the roadside, oblivious to his cries as the man cried behind their car desperately. With deaf ears and blind eyes, Michonne had kept driving as Rick had just stared ahead at the road. The man's backpack was still with them.

_Rick, you can't just be the good guy and expect to live._

But Rick was living, and Shane was dead. Because Rick had killed him. And Rick hadn't turned a blind eye to what Carol had done, not like Dawn had just precisely done. He'd also helped Amanda this time. Yet, he still didn't know what all those made him. Good—bad…it was hard to name them now, like the context of the words had become lost, their insides emptied. At the end Rick was just a man who wanted to keep his family alive, safe, and fed.

One of the officers that stood guard in front of the main gates stayed behind as the others left, his eyes heavily on Amanda as she held his gaze as well.

The man then slowly started walking to her. He stopped when there were five or so feet left between them, keeping a safe distance like Dawn. Rick saw a sergeant insignia at his arm. He was possibly the same age around him, in his late thirties. He had a bald head with an olive skin which he kept starkly clean, but Rick wasn't surprised at it anymore.

He understood what kind of a place this hospital was. Despite everything, the thought still created a disturbance in him, leaving Amanda here. It didn't…fit. She said they were her people and she had to put things back together, but the way she'd been cleaning her uniform… He didn't know, and it was bothering him.

Standing still, the man was still looking at her. Then his lips lifted up. "You're hard to kill, aren't you?"

Beside him, Amanda let out a small sigh. "It's good to see you, too, Lamson," she said in return, but her voice wasn't having any bite in it.

"And you, too, Mandy—" the sergeant answered. Rick tossed a glance at Amanda after the nickname, but she hadn't reacted. 

_Mandy_ … It was hard to imagine anyone calling her like that. Amanda just didn't look like a woman you could use nicknames to call her. And she'd said Lamson. Rick understood then, the male officer was the partner she'd mentioned a few times.

"We held a memorial in your name two days ago—" the man continued conversationally. "People talked…There were even some _tears_."

This time she let out a smile. "Now, really?"

"Yeah—I was surprised myself, too. Even Dawn said a piece herself."

"Lemme guess—" she said, still smiling. "She said I was one of the good ones?"

The male officer laughed at her back. "Damn right."

Amanda shook her head, her lips still pulled out, but then she dropped it as her expression lost the whole humor. "Where's Gorman?" she asked directly.

"He left yesterday for a supply run with O'Donnell."

She nodded. "You know we need to talk," she remarked firmly.

The man simply nodded back. "I know. Later."

"Later," Amanda confirmed.

With that, the sergeant left them too.

She watched his retreating back for a while as the man vanished through the main gate. She turned to Rick. "That's good,” she said, bobbing her head. “If we can send you away before Gorman and O'Donnell come back, it'd be really good."

Rick frowned, leaving her behind to deal with those sonofabitches on her own… The disturbance was there again, clawing at his edges, and he was getting _angry_. He walked closer to her heatedly, waving an arm at her. "You don't mean that!"

"I _d_ _o_ —" she bit off firmly. "Dawn's siding with Gorman. Things could turn ugly. I don't want you around if it does. I _don't_ want _Beth_ around." She shook her head. "I promised her father I'd keep her safe."

" _We_ promised—" Rick corrected her, his tone getting rough, and his tongue felt heavy. They—they had promised to Hershel _together_. She wasn't alone in this.

"No—" but she refused stubbornly. "Your priority _is_ meds. You take them, then you go. Dawn, Gorman, all the others…they're _my_ problem, not yours."

With that, she turned and walked away toward Beth and Maggie.

# # #

Amanda walked to the Greene sisters. It was just a few minutes before she returned but she was already feeling tired. She—she had to send them away. If something happened to Beth because of her. No. She'd brought her here, had promised her father that she would keep the teenager safe, told the old man she _believed_ it… and Dawn said… _You stayed behind…_

Fucking hilarious.

She hadn't stayed behind. The bastard shot her, then took her gun when she was out, then left her behind. Amanda _hadn't_ lost her gun. She wasn't an idiot. When she woke up, the gun was gone. The bastard hadn't even left her a means to protect herself in case that she didn’t end up eaten alive while unconscious.

Bloody fucking hilarious.

_You stayed behind._

She wondered what justifications Gorman had given them… _We were running and she couldn't keep up—stayed behind?_ Did they really buy that? Seriously? She might be the fastest runner of the whole force! No one had yet to beat her at the track. Had they really believed—believed that _Gorman_ of all people would've outrun her?

No… They just wanted to. Like they ate up Dawn's lies, believing her when she told them someone would come soon. They believed her because they wanted to, because otherwise other questions needed to be asked. And who would want that?

Amanda stopped in front of Beth, looked at her carefully. Her pale, white face was getting red. Fever. Amanda passed her hand over the girl’s forehead and felt the heat across her skin. She was burning up. Her condition was worsening.

And Amanda had brought her in this…lions' den. Gorman… This whole mess with Joan had started because Amanda had started fearing that Gorman _started_ running around a young ward around Beth's age. She hadn't believed the man would've stooped that low—but she'd started…fearing.

God, why had she insisted it had to be Beth?

What the hell was she thinking?

 _It wouldn't hurt you to have a little bit of faith…_ the words hurt her now, like sharp pieces of glass cutting her insides… If something really happened to Beth because of her—because of her plan… She pushed the thought away.

No. No. She shouldn't think like this. Her people were with her. Her sister, Rick, even this hunter guy. They would never let anything happen to her. _Never_. Rick promised too.

Amanda felt Rick's gaze on them as he walked toward them. She had to send them as soon as possible. Rick had gotten angry with her after her remark, but she didn't care. She didn't even want to think about it anymore. She didn't want them to get involved any further. Grady was their mess. Before Gorman returned, she needed to find a way to get the meds and send them back to the prison, back to their own mess.

Still resting herself against the car, Beth gave her a smile under her red cloth. Amanda saw it in the way her eyes wrinkled, a sad tired smile. "Is she always like this?" the girl asked lowly.

Amanda gave her a small smile. "Uh, she was having one of her _good_ days," she replied. "Guess she was happy to see me again," she muttered the bitter words.

Though, she knew Dawn was still happy. Amanda was a good officer that everyone would like to keep around. Yes, she was annoying sometimes, curt and sly, but she wasn't dumb. She also didn't question authority; she followed orders, followed protocols to a tee. She did her job, and did what she was told, almost never complained aside a few occasional f. words.

Overall, that couldn't be said about many officers in the force, even before the turn.

And, really, if Edwards came out before Beth dropped on the ground, it would be fantastic. "Maybe you should rest in the car—" she offered to the teenager. "You shouldn't stay standing."

Beth shook her head. "No—I'm fine."

"Well—I'm _not_ —" Amanda told her back, cop voice and all, opening the door. She _wasn't_ fine seeing the girl like this. "Hop in."

Maggie held Beth's elbow and started settling her inside the backseat. "You heard the officer, sis—" The woman gave her a look, but there was no hostility in it this time. "Get in."

Beth lay down over the seat as they stood up in front of the car, waiting.

Rick raised his right arm to check out as if a watch, but his wrist was empty. Amanda could see a slight lighter line over his skin. He'd had a watch until recently. Maggie looked at his wrist, too, and frowned. "What happened to your watch?"

His eyes stern, Rick’s face hardened further. "Lost it."

Maggie looked…sad. Amanda didn't know what to say for the whole exchange, so she just kept looking at the main gate. She checked for the familiar sight of her coworkers or the doctor, but no one came out.

She figured almost half of an hour passed before the doors finally opened. Daryl gave a brief whistle to warn others as Lamson, she recognized from his bald head, and four other officers she couldn't name yet, walked out together with Dr. Edwards. She supposed it was Edwards because the man was clad in a big baggy white hazmat suit, his face protected behind a shield mask. Lamson and the other officers stopped again five or so feet away from them as Edwards continued to walk.

The doctor halted in front of the car, holding a thermometer. "Where’s she?" his voice came out rough under the hazmat suit and behind the shield.

Maggie stepped aside to reveal her sister still laying in the backseat through the open door. Edwards leaned forward. "Okay—" he said. "Let's get her in—" He turned to Rick. "I prepared two rooms for you. You're gonna stay in quarantine until we discover what this is."

Rick shook his head. "We won't get separated—" he started but the doctor cut him off.

"Thought so. The room is a suite, adjoined drawing room and a bedroom. You can all stay there."

Well, Edwards was a smart guy, Amanda always knew. "I need to take your body temperature, too."

"We don't feel sick—" Maggie said back.

"The standard protocol," the man returned as if bored, voice rough. "It has to be followed."

Because they _always_ followed protocols at Grady. Always.

 _You stayed behind…_ the words echoed in her mind, but Amanda pushed them away again as Rick leaning down cuddled Beth into his arms and started carrying her inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, writing Grady, Dawn is such struggle. *You* stayed behind part was something I wanted to do from the very beginning, Amanda tasting the bitter medicine of what she did herself was done to her, and Rick's conflict.
> 
> Needless to say, the trouble is coming, of course :) "She's one of the good ones" was a direct shout-too to Coda, both Dawn and Amanda told it to Rick about Lamson, and I'd laughed at that so much. And didn't everyone treat her like shit in the show, lol? Lamson told her he needed her to shut up when she tried to talk to Daryl and the group to release them, Daryl and Rick for obvious reasons, at the end Dawn too, I think told her "Shut up" or something like that. Poor girl. :)
> 
> And, I was so wanting to make Amanda using the cop voice on Beth, too, one day. He he. Done it. Another mission accomplished. :)


	11. Chapter 11

**XI.**

Three hours.

Inside the adjoined suite, they’d been waiting for three hours, and Amanda was fucking hating every second of it.

Maggie was pacing in the room, agitated non-stop since the time Edwards left them after taking their blood for tests and starting an IV for Beth. Bob, the medic, was seated at the chair beside the bed, monitoring her. Tyreese and Daryl took positions for both entrances, sitting on the ground in silence, their backs against the wall, alert.

Amanda sat at the edge of the bed in the other room, a little bit away from others for a little bit of solitude. She tried to put her thoughts in order, _try_ to think a bit… but it was useless. Maggie's fierce pacing was distracting as hell, and Rick…well, Rick was making her a lot of more…nervous.

He stood beside the adjoined suite's interior door’s threshold. He had a clear line of sight of both rooms as his back rested against the door frame. His head was slightly angled, looking at the ground, and _around_ , his right hand on his holster. He wasn't tapping, but he still kept it there. Every once in a while, his eyes skipped toward her under his tilted head, tossing at her glances. No, not glances, but _stares_ _,_ while Amanda pretended not to notice.

They hadn't talked since that moment outside. Frankly, Amanda didn't want to talk anymore. She—she just wanted them to go. Be away…be safe…

 _Stay the fuck away from it_ , his spat words echoed in her mind, and a bitter snort escaped from her.

God, she was an idiot.

And he seemed like getting idiotic, too. The way he said "we" at the parking lot.

 _We_.

When the hell had they become a ‘ _we’_?

She bowed her head and raised her hands to rest it between them. She even wanted to pull her hair and scream, but she thought she already quite looked like a madwoman to him, so she kept herself restrained.

His eyes found her again, she felt _it_ … His gaze, she felt it on her, making small tingles all over her body. She just felt it, and it was fucking…disturbing, like…like something trying to poke her insides—trying to get in. She almost squirmed where she sat. She shook her head between her hands. "Didn't your mama tell you it's rude to stare at people, Rick?" she slowly mumbled.

His gaze was _still_ on her. Amanda lifted her head. He gave a half shrug, one corner of his lips faintly quirking up. "Cop habit, I guess."

Tilting her aside slightly, she gave him a look back. "Well, stop it. I'm not one of your perps," she replied, standing up. "You're making me nervous."

The words momentarily halted her steps as she began walking toward Beth to check on the girl, a sudden fire erupting in her.

_You're making me nervous._

God, could she even get any stupider?

Once again, his eyes were on her. She flicked hers to him, too, couldn't even help herself. They shared a look, his keen eyes looking at her as if she were a puzzle he couldn't solve, but…wanted to.

Oh, dear god.

 _Stay the fuck away,_ she repeated to herself, and wished Rick could listen his own damn piece of advice, as well.

She felt the heat rising through her cheeks and up over her neck. But surely it was only the heat of the moment. Perhaps she was getting sick, because she couldn’t be blushing, _because_ she didn't blush. Period.

She darted her eyes around and decided to call a tactical retreat.

She quickly turned and went to the bathroom.

And blessed solitude.

She rested her back against the door, closing her eyes. She'd missed being alone. No. She hadn't only missed being alone, but she'd missed not being afraid of it.

Amanda had always been a private person. She never liked crowds, never liked company all that much. And it'd never bothered her before. People bored her the most of the time, always disappointing in a way. Before the turn, she used to pass most of her spare time in either gym or library in downtown, occasionally having a drink in a bar down the block, places where one could be surrounded by people, but still could be alone.

Now, it was gone. Being alone was a luxury they couldn't afford anymore. It was frightening to stay alone in a world like this, having no one.

 _We_ …echoed in her mind, and Amanda pushed it away. No.

There was no we. Not with Rick and his company anyway. She had her own people, people she had to help. It was her own mess—well, not _her_ mess, but her problem. Rick, Maggie, Beth, they all had their own problems.

If things were different, perhaps she could've… She stopped it.

Thinking on what ifs was a giant waste of time and served no purpose. This was the hand she’d been dealt, and now she had to play it. They all had to play the hand they were dealt.

She bowed her head at the washbasin. She turned on the faucet, washed her face, and let the cold water take her mind off her thoughts as well.

She raised her head and looked in the mirror as water drops slid over her skin. She was going to send them away safely like she'd promised, then she was going to play the hand she was dealt.

Like she always did.

# # #

As she turned and vanished into the bathroom, Rick stared after her.

Had she—had she actually ran away from him? To hide in the bathroom?

_You're making me nervous._

Was he?

He wondered if it was an unconscious slip like his own "you look good" comment, words suddenly coming out of the mouth before you realized what you did. Judging by the way she'd blushed—a fierce redness coloring her cheeks, Rick would say yes, it had been.

_You're making me nervous._

God.

He couldn't think of that. He _shouldn't_ think of this stuff. Beth was getting worse. And she was one of the last who got sick. If she was getting like this, then the others.... They needed meds. His priority had to be meds. Amanda was right about that.

His people needed treatment, needed meds, not this…whatever hell it was.

Frankly, he had no idea. It was getting confusing, and he didn't like it. There was no place for confusion anymore in their life. No room for any complication.

Life was hard as it was. They could try to make it easier for each other at least.

That meant he had to stop…making her nervous, he guessed. Stop giving her looks… Though to be fair to him, he didn't do it deliberately. Not all the time. Most times it just happened.

His jaw clenching, Rick scowled at his last thought. He—he sounded like a damn teenager.

He was a man, a father, a leader. He has responsibilities. He could control where his eyes wandered. They didn't need complications.

A few minutes later, Amanda emerged from the bathroom, looking more collected, her face still having a slight moist, her skin wet with water drops—

Across his eyes, the scene flashed again—long bare legs, roundly shaped shoulders, arms, glistening wet in the moonlight as she was bent down on the ground on her hands and knees— He pushed the scene away almost with a groan.

This—this was getting…tiresome.

Without casting him a glance, she crossed the room and directly went to Beth. Keeping his eyes trained _ahead_ , Rick did the same.

She sat on the bedside carefully, looking at the teenager intently. She leaned forward as Rick stood at the bed's foot. "How do you feel?" Amanda asked softly as Maggie came to his side too, stopping her pacing.

Her eyes half closed, Beth mumbled. "Better. My head still hurts."

Amanda nodded, passing her head over Beth’s forehead. "It's gonna pass. Your fever has started dropping, I believe—" She reached out the device the doctor had left to track her fever and put it on Beth's forehead. "Dr. Edwards can get a bit…unruly sometimes, but he's a good doctor," she told them, lifting her head. "We couldn't do none of this if it weren't him."

Beside him, Maggie frowned. "What do you mean?"

Amanda looked at the device. "Yes, her fever started dropping—" Her eyes found Bob as the medic still sat in the chair at the other side.

"He gave her a dose of ibuprofen,” the former army medic clarified. “It controlled the fever. It's good. Sometimes the flu viruses react to it the wrong way. If it works, then this thing might be a more common thing."

Amanda nodded, giving Beth a half smile, and turned to Maggie. "Dr Edwards's the only doctor now at Grady," she answered her earlier question. "We lost most of the staff at the bombings trying to evacuate them. The rest—along the way.” She drew back, resting her back against the headrest of the bed.

"When we fully understood we're all infected, a…conflict started among us. Until then, we were still trying to reach whoever we could save, and the doctors were treating them. Some of us wanted to stop, started thinking that we had to save ourselves instead, and stop wasting our resources. Hanson—Hanson sided with them. He was our Captain, the chief of our division. Dawn was his second in command. Dawn refused, said that we were cops and should do our jobs. First, mostly it was just bickering, then it turned—you know worse. Almost a civil war or something. The factions between us still exist. Gorman was with Hanson. Lamson and I were with Dawn." She stopped, letting a sigh out, her voice carrying a tiredness that Rick felt deep in his bones.

"Then one day it happened. We—we got more than thirty sick at the hospital. On that morning, Hanson ordered us to pull the plugs. All of them. Gorman and others started doing it. We drew guns on each other. Hanson ordered to open fire whoever stood against the order." She stopped, bowing her head, and started playing with her fingers. "I—I killed one of us that day. He was trying to pull the plug on a fifteen-year-old girl. We drew our guns at the same time, but I was faster." She raised her head, and her eyes found his. 

Rick recognized the words. She'd said when they met, the first time she killed someone it was before the turn, so Rick knew it wasn't the first time she’d done it.

He really wondered how many people she'd killed so far. Was she still counting?

Rick—Rick had stopped counting long ago. After a while, they became just numbers, names on a list, and it disturbed him now more than the killing.

"What happened then?" Maggie asked slowly in the silence.

She lifted her head. "Before things got even worse, Dawn did it. She—she shot Hanson. She took the command. She told us we're still cops, we still serve. That we should do our best before everything turns back the way it's supposed to. That we should endure, hang on. And we did." She paused. "I think."

She let out a bitter sound. "Dawn and Edwards made a deal. Dawn said Hanson was right in one point. Our resources are limited, so we _should_ decide who we will save. Dawn decided we should only take…the injured, the weak…those who need protection and heal them back. In return, they work for us. They keep this place clean, do our laundry, cook our meals, cater…some of our whims," she added in a whisper, bowing her head, and they all understood what she meant.

Her face hardening at the words, Maggie's anger returned. "And y-you _brought_ my sister here?"

"To heal her back—" she replied, standing up, her face as cold as Maggie. "Yes. And she's healing, Maggie. She's already healing," she said pointedly. "I promised your dad I'll keep Beth safe, and I _will_.”

She turned on her heel and stalked back to the bathroom again, vanishing into her…secret place.

Rick wanted to sigh deeply, his eyes on the bathroom’s door. Maggie turned to him. "I can't believe we swallowed this," she hissed, shaking her head angrily. "I can't believe we said okay to this."

"Maggie—she's right—" Beth said. "I already feel better."

"We should've known!" Maggie went on as if Beth hadn't spoken, before Rick announced, "I knew it.”

All the eyes in the room turned to him. "She told me before,” Rick admitted. “I knew what was going around here before we came."

Maggie's eyes flashed angrily. The young woman walked closer to him as they stood face to face. "You _knew_?"

Rick nodded. "She told me—"

"And you still said okay to this plan—" Maggie cried over his words. "Rick—what's _wrong_ with you?"

" _Nothing_ is wrong with me," Rick bit off, giving the older Greene a heated look. "We all did things. She came clean even when she had no reason to do so. She told me she was going back to her people, still talked to me. She said she had to go back. Do something. She came here, _brought_ us all here knowing what it'd mean, but still did it."

He drew in a breath to calm himself more. "At the parking lot, she told me she wanted us gone as soon as possible, so Beth would be safe. She didn't think her people would've written her off, but they did. I tried to tell her, but she didn't believe it." Rick had warned her, when they talked first, he was suspicious. He’d tried to tell her that her people seemed to look at the other side, too, but she still didn’t believe they would’ve done it to _her_.

As smart as she was, her… _naivety_ made things even harder. It was just easier to think of her as a sly, uncanny, always with a retort woman. Not like _this_. Her reaction realizing Dawn had decided to turn to the other side… the way she uttered, _I guess this_ _is_ _how it feels…_

The disturbance was at full force in him, seizing his chest, making it hard to breath. He wished—he wished…

What did he wish?

Throw her over his shoulder and save her from her monsters? Be her gallant knight in the old, worn-out shirt—be her champion—protect her from monsters, his pretty lady in the woods…

No. They didn't live in a fairy tale. They lived in a nightmare.

"Rick!" Beth's sudden cry interrupted his thoughts as Rick looked at the young girl. Her blue eyes were wide with a feverish look now, but Rick realized it wasn't because of fever this time.

"You have to help her!" Beth demanded fiercely, her eyes wandering between them, even towards Tyreese and Daryl who were sitting on the floor beside the doors. "Y’all have to help her. She needs—"

"We need meds—" Rick said, cooling down the fire in his chest. They needed meds. His priority was with his people. It had to be. Always.

# # #

Fifteen minutes later, a knock at the door disturbed her solitude. Amanda was just sitting on the toilet, her elbows on her knees, her head between her hands again, trying not to think.

She honestly didn't want to think anymore, even a bit.

She'd told them the whole truth, because she'd wanted them to be prepared, because she wanted them gone in peace—and in one piece. She’d come clean, and of course, got reprimanded because of it.

She really wanted them, and their moral high horse gone now. She knew—she knew she deserved it. She hadn’t done anything, but didn’t stop it…But…But…could she have done it? Stopped it?

Amanda knew the answer. She couldn't have. Amanda knew not to get into fights she couldn't win. It wasn't her style. _Then_ what the hell was she trying to do here?

Especially here…sitting in the toilet because she felt the need to be alone? God, she _really_ wished she could've gone and hid under a bed like she used to do when she got scared at the homes. Be alone. Be safe.

That was always the only thing, the only single thing she'd ever wanted from life. Just be alone and be safe. Too much to ask these days.

It’d been so much _easier_ in the prison…like…like it was the easiest thing in the world…do something. Make a change—

Another knock came at the door, and she heard Rick's voice from the other side. "Amanda, the doctor came back."

She let out a breath out, a deep one, emptying her lungs out, and stood up.

All right. No more wallowing in self-pity like a drama queen.

That wasn't her, either.

She had things to do.

She breathed deeply again, trying to calm her erratic emotions, trying to focus. She walked to the door and opened it. For a change, his head was bowed, he was looking down, and Amanda was glad.

The last thing she needed now to feel awkward with Rick Grime's fucking stares.

She walked back to the room where Beth was in the hospital bed, then her eyes moved, and Amanda saw the doctor. A sudden joy found her through her starkness. The doctor was out of his hazmat suit.

"Good news?" she asked the doctor.

"Like always, good and bad together—" the doctor answered placidly. "You're not infected,” he confirmed. “We opened the laboratory, did the blood test. I'm not a virologist, but our test kits got a grand coverage. Your results came clean. I saw several other infections, but it's only expected."

"And Beth's?" Maggie asked, agitated.

"We checked her blood specially of course—" He turned to Amanda. "You guessed correctly. I believe it's a mutated version of swine flu. Again, I'm not a virologist, but I examined her blood under the microscope. Tried a few vaccines and antibiotics. Good news is that one of the vaccines worked."

Maggie's lips split in two with a big smile. She held her sister's hand, but something was wrong, Amanda could feel it. She just knew it.

_Like always, good and bad together._

And he’d taken off the hazmat suit. She frowned, walking toward him. "You took off the hazmat suit," she remarked, giving the man a hard look.

"Um, yeah—" the doctor fidgeted. "Dawn ordered us to take the vaccines when she discovered I found the cure. I vaccinated others too."

That made almost thirty people. The feeling of wrong turned even worse in her. With the corner of her eyes she caught a frown pulling Rick's brows together, too. "What's it, doc?" she asked, "You said good and bad together, what's the bad?"

"Uh—well, you know we're low on the stocks now. Those vaccines, too. I've got one left for Beth—" He raised his arm, pulling a syringe out of his pocket, "but for the rest…there isn't any left."

Amanda swallowed as everyone stared at the doctor, her eyes darkening. "You used ‘em even before you got sick, man?" Daryl asked Edwards as Amanda just stared ahead.

“Actually, the vaccines have to be used before you get sick—" she heard the doctor mumble through a haze of a mist, something cutting deeper and deeper.

She felt cold—icy… Why… why? She—she just wanted to help… They’d helped her. They were good people, one of the few were left…

She—she just wanted to _do something—_

Her eyes hurt, and she heard Rick's voice, a whisper, so close…so close… like inside her… echoing… felt his hand on her arm, "Amanda—"

It broke something inside her. She snapped her head around to look at him. Her eyes found his—those blue eyes that made her feel so nervous, so rattled, so disturbed, an alarm setting off inside her, but this time it just set her on fire, anger—anger finding her—running through her icy haze like a wildfire, and she snapped.

For the first time all in her life, Amanda truly, entirely, utterly, snapped. She unclicked her holster, turned on her heels, and lunged to the door.

When she walked out of the door, her gun was already in her hand.

"AMANDA!" she heard Rick yell behind her, but she didn't stop.

She just stepped in the corridor to find Dawn.

# # #

"AMANDA!" Rick yelled behind her as she drew her gun, walking out of the door.

Daryl and Tyreese were already on their feet as Rick ran toward the door, "Tyreese—stay with Maggie and Bob," he ordered quickly, his hand going to his holster, "Daryl!"

The hunter was behind his heel in a beat as they ran out the room after her.

"Amanda!" he shouted at her as she marched in the hall, still holding the Glock he’d given her. "Amanda, stop!"

Twisting her head aside, she looked at him over her shoulder. "Go back to the room, Rick. I'm done with it. I'm done with her."

"Goddammit!" he swore, catching up with her. "You're gonna get yourself killed!"

" _And_ I'm taking her with me!"

Rick leaped forward. He took her in a tight grip behind, one arm coiling over her chest, the other circling her waist to secure her to his chest. He turned aside and rasped at Daryl while at the same time Amanda started trying to break free, "Daryl! Gun!"

"Let go off me!" she yelled. “I'm gonna do it!" Coming from her other shoulder, Daryl bent down a little, and grabbed her arm. Her fingers tightened around the gun, and she trashed as Daryl tried to take the gun. Rick tightened his grip to stabilize her. "Let go of me!"

She smacked her head back at his forehead—

"Daryl!” Rick rasped out roughly, pain splitting his head two. For as skinny a woman as she was, she was still strong, or her delirium gave her another kind of strength, Rick didn't know. But he was damn glad Daryl finally managed to rip the gun away from her fingers.

" _Calm down—"_ he whispered at her, using his best cop voice she'd wanted him to use on Tyreese before. "Calm down _now_!" he repeated as her movements suddenly ceased. "This's not helping them. What happened, happened. We'll find another way."

She breathed out, and a shiver passed over her. Then she nodded. Releasing her, Rick took a step back.

A sudden silence lingered between them as none of them made a noise. She bowed her head and stared at the floor for a while. Rick saw how clean they were, how pristine—then he saw from the corner ahead them, a man—an old man came out, slowly limping—a long mop in his hands as he wiped the corridor clean slowly, mumbling to himself a melody, whistling softly…

They all stared at him. It was such a bizarre moment that once again Rick didn't know how it’d ended up like this. His head where she'd hit him was still hurting, a nail drilling through his temples, Amanda still staring at the man, Daryl looking lost… as the man just wiped the corridor clean.

Amanda then shook her head a little. "Stupid—" she mumbled out, "So stupid…"

The man suddenly halted, finally catching them in the corridor, "Officer Shepherd—" the old man said, his voice as old and tired as him. “I—I heard you're back.”

Amanda bobbed her head in answer. "Yes, Percy. I'm back."

"It's—I'm glad, ma'am—" the old man said hesitantly, giving her a look. Rick realized the man was the one she'd talked about—the old man the others made cry… "We—we all are."

A half step behind beside her, Rick saw her swallowing, nodding at the man again. Then she turned to Daryl. "Can—can I have my gun back?" Daryl gave him a look. "I won't do anything stupid—" she said lowly.

Rick nodded. Daryl reached it out. She took it back and tucked it to her holster again.

In silence, they started turning back to the room, but just as the same time, two other officers appeared behind the corner—then Dawn walked out too.

# # #

Amanda stared at their highest-ranking officer, all of her fury and anger that had dissipated with Rick's calm but firm words and Percy’s tired mopping threatening to surface again. Amanda pushed them down. Anger was stupid, she told herself, a quick temper and mindless acts only got you a kicked ass.

 _Or get yourself killed_ …like Rick had put it.

Even of she took down Dawn, managing not to kill herself in the meanwhile, what would she have gained? She knew what would happen then. An open conflict, a civil war between Lamson and Gorman, all hands out. A massacre.

God, how she'd been this stupid!

This was reckless! This wasn't her. This so wasn't her.

Dawn gave her an overall look, seizing three of them with those always criticizing cold blue eyes of hers. "What're you doing here, Shepherd?" she asked tersely. "You haven't cleared off yet from the quarantine."

"Dr. Edwards told us we're clean, ma'am—" she said, the last words feeling like bile in her throat as she held herself back from calling her a sociopathic bitch. "I wanted to talk to you."

Yet again, even without seeing it, she felt Rick's gaze on her. But be fair to him, this time all the others' eyes were on her too. She saw Tanaka and Alvarado, and Licari, and beside her, Daryl too, giving her a side look.

Dawn tilted her head aside with a slight angle, eyes still criticizing. "I believe it's time we talk. Yes. Come—" she ordered.

Amanda took a step forward, but Rick caught her elbow lightly. He stepped beside her. "Amanda—" he whispered, angling his head finding her eyes. His eyes were lit, with something—but she…she really didn't want to find out anymore… It was just—

She gave a little shake of head. "It's okay—" she told him. "I _am_ okay."

His gaze this time was skeptical. She made a move to walk, but looking at him, Dawn suddenly said, "You can come, too, Deputy Grimes. I want to talk to you, too."

# # #

In silence, they sat on the chairs in front of the lieutenant's desk. The room was cluttered, dimly lighted as the rest of the hospital to save energy, but proper looking like everything else in the hospital; clean, tidy, spotless, no speck of dust. At the corner beside the door, an exercise bike stood—and a clean set of towels on its seat.

Rick didn't know if he should laugh or frown anymore. The more he knew about this place, the more his disturbance grew—and they'd lost the vaccines.

At least Beth was going to get her treatment, but perhaps they should leave. It was past noon now, perhaps they really had to leave. Things might've really grown worse since the morning, and the fences…

His eyes found Amanda as she sat rigidly at the chair, her spine straightened as if she was strained with wires. Momentarily he thought what would've happened if he couldn't have calmed her down…He felt the slight lump at his forehead… and possibilities almost made his stomach churn. He turned to the commanding officer, but the woman's eyes were solely on Amanda, as she just stared ahead above his head at the wall behind him. 

"I know you're upset, Amanda—" Dawn started, her voice this time having a softness in it, using her first name. Amanda didn't react. "But Gorman did what he had to do."

She shook her head. "He left me behind—" she remarked coldly.

"He told me you were unconscious," the lieutenant stated, "Were you?"

Briskly, she gave a nod. 

"He couldn't have carried you over his shoulder, Amanda."

She shook her head again. "No. But he could've hid us until I came back to."

"It was a risk—" Dawn said in return, "I was furious when I learned it, disappointed and furious, but it was his decision to risk it,” the older woman stated. “We don't know the circumstances. Even _you_ don't know."

In silence, Rick watched the exchange. The answers weren't easy anymore. They didn't leave people behind. He wouldn't have left any of his family behind, but others in the prisons… People in D block? Maggie's question came to his mind. What if it were Glenn and Beth who had been the first sick? From everything Amanda told him, her dislike for the man was very much mutual, too.

"I was furious, but I was glad to have at least one of my officers back," Dawn continued, "We had worse days."

This time, demurely, Amanda only nodded, muttering another _yes, ma'am_. It was odd seeing her like this—docile, remembering how she were with him in the prison, even telling him to fuck off. Dawn's eyes briefly darted at him. Rick gave the woman a look back. "I know you're also upset about the vaccines—"

That finally got her spirit fire again. Her head snapped, and she fixed at the lieutenant a heated look. "I—I promised them, ma'am! I told them to trust me. I told them we could help. Rick helped me in the woods when even my own colleague didn't. They're sick!"

"And I'm sorry for that. I'm gonna help as much as I can because they _helped_ you, Amanda, because we owe them for that." Her eyes again turned to Rick. "I'm gonna give you antibiotics and other meds you might need. Ibuprofen, aspirin, lozenges. I think I can even spare a respirator, and we'll treat the girl, but other vaccines…" She shook her head. "Vaccines had to be used for us. Yours is saved, too. You'll take it after our talk." She paused. "I _couldn't_ take the risk."

This time she fully turned to Rick and addressed him directly. "Please, Deputy Grimes, tell me. If you were in my place, wouldn't you have done the same? Wouldn't you protect your lot first?"

The way the woman asked the question didn't let him give any other answer, "Yes."

As if she'd won a victory, the woman nodded. "Yes. Because you're a leader, and because you know what that means. You protect your own flock first."

Still, Amanda shook her head. "I won't take mine. Rick will—"

Her words cut off as Dawn's hand hit the desk. Rick snapped his head at the woman, his eyes darkening with the sudden violent act, and Rick knew the woman was holding her anger back, perhaps even to not to hit Amanda… Rick let out a sharp breath, all the things Amanda had said turning in his mind… "That wasn't a suggestion!" the woman grit through clenched lips. "Vaccines are for my officers, and you _are_ one of my officers! You _will_ have your shot. Even if I'll need to tie you down to the bed and do it myself!"

Rick moved his hand to his hip, ready to draw his gun. The woman caught his act, too, Rick _saw_ it, and turned to him again. "However—" she said, her voice losing the edge. "You might still have your vaccines, Deputy," the woman announced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, first of all, I want to say I hope my Dawn has become as twisted and manipulative as the canon version, because she was really a real piece, manipulating herself around people. At the end, she even got Rick agreed with her, lol, even though Rick at the end was ready to get into action. It was such a feat to write her. She's twisted. And you might've noticed that she saved a vaccine for Beth, as well. She's got her plans :)
> 
> Writing Amanda this chapter was very sad, and fun, especially hiding in the bathroom, locking herself in :) Amanda's biggest inspiration as her character was actually Daryl, so likewise Daryl, Amanda also has got arrested development, emotionally she's like-perhaps even less mature than Beth, how Daryl sometimes acts like a kid, too.
> 
> I'm loving making shout-outs to Rick and Amanda as you know knights and damsels in distress, Rick thinking it isn't a fairy tale. His conflict is really great to write, and I really wanted him to confess to Maggie that he knew what kind of a place Grady before they came, because she confessed. Her calming down Amanda as she lost it is possibly my second favorite moment of the story now. My personal first is their quasi farewell, Amanda thanking him to prove her chivalry hasn't died yet :)
> 
> Anyway, I enjoyed writing this chapter a lot, so I'm rambling. Sorry.
> 
> Please, let me what you think :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm quite happy I finally made it to this chapter.

**XII.**

"However, you might still have your vaccines, Deputy," Dawn declared, and Amanda knew something was coming even before she continued. Dawn was playing her own game. Amanda could feel it deep in her bones.

She even had managed to get Rick to agree with her on the principles, like—like Amanda was being a drama queen for what had happened with Gorman.

Fucking bloody hilarious.

No. She wasn't going to take that vaccine shot, either! Threaten her as much she would, Amanda _wasn't_ going to stand down this time. Dawn wanted her to do it, well they would see. She was not going to play up with her rules anymore! She had had _enough_.

Anger still was so close to her, a brazen flare winding around her edges—and for a moment or so the temptation was so great again, so sweet, letting herself go with it—let herself be washed in it…in that furious tempest—and draw her gun and finish it… just be done with it…

She tried to hang on the calmness, reminding herself what anger would get them—a kicked ass. But Rick's hand was still on his gun, too, his eyes—those keen, measuring clear blue eyes fixed at their commanding officer intensely. Amanda feared for a moment if he would do something stupid, like she'd just tried a few minutes ago.

This was all going to spiral down… "What is it?" Rick asked roughly, his voice close to a rasp.

"Grady is a big hospital," Dawn started speaking again. "There are still many wings and warehouses in the clinics we haven't secured yet," she announced, and then Amanda understood. She understood perfectly. She recalled her own damn words to them in the car, telling them they still got supplies in Grady that they hadn't cleared out yet.

Of course.

_Of course._

"One of the main warehouses is at the west wing. We're at the east wing now," their lieutenant continued, "We made an inventory from the logs when we took the command first. The vaccines are still there in the cold storage units."

Rick's expression turned even sterner. "I assume there's a catch?" he asked as Amanda shook her head.

"No—" she opposed, turning to Dawn again. "We sealed it for a reason. It's swarming with rotters inside. They can't go in."

But Dawn wasn't even sparing her a glance. The woman’s cold dark blue eyes were glued on Rick. "You can—" she answered at him directly, "if you're willing to take the risk." She paused for a second. "If you can manage, you can have the vaccines, and a tenth of what's inside."

"It's overrun!" Amanda exclaimed, but they were still staring at each other as if she weren't in the same room with them.

"Only a tenth?" Rick asked.

"And the vaccines—" Dawn reminded him. "A tenth for your troubles. They're still ours. If you wouldn't want to risk it, you can still take what we offer, and we'll leave it there."

She was getting them to do her dirty work. She'd set up her trap, readied her game and they'd fallen for it like moths to a flame.

So, Amanda wasn't surprised when Rick gave a curt nod, standing up. "We'll do it."

And, it was a damn suicide run. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Dawn stated again, "Officer Shepherd will walk you through the schematics, but this is a risk you have to take with your people _alone_ ," their CO announced firmly as Amanda felt cold again in her insides.

Understanding her words, Rick nodded curtly. "I understand."

Dawn then turned to her. "Shepherd?" she asked, demanding the same from her, too. _Of course._ "We can't get involved. _We're_ staying out," the woman warned her. Amanda looked at her back coldly but didn't affirm the command. "Is it understood?" Dawn demanded again, leaning down, dark blue eyes holding hers.

Then Amanda made up her mind. She stood up as well. " _Yes, ma'am,_ " she seethed out between clenched teeth and started marching to the door.

She opened the door and walked out of the room. She stomped down the corridor, her boots making soft noises at the ground, Rick on her heels. She had to think. Lamson. She needed to talk to Lamson. _Now_.

She halted her steps when they left the corridor where Dawn's office was, and stopped, turning to Rick. "We need to talk with Lamson," she said quickly. "You _can't_ go in there alone."

"Amanda," Rick said, letting out a contained small sigh. "You heard her. _Don't_."

"Didn't you hear what I said, Rick?" she asked heatedly, taking a step closer to him. They weren't going there alone. Period. It was suicide. "That wing is full of rotters. We sealed it by welding the doors closed. It's that bad."

"We managed far worse odds—" Rick told her back. "We cleared a prison, Amanda. It wasn't a picnic, either."

"I don't care—" she snapped back, turning to walk again. "You're not doing it alone."

He held at her upper arm lightly to stop her. "Amanda. You heard her. I need those vaccines."

She gave him a look and shook her head. "Yes. But not like this." Shaking him off her arm, she walked back again at his side. "Listen to me, Rick," she started with a voice she hoped was cool enough. "I don't know what you managed there at the prison, but I know that wing. Your numbers _aren't_ enough. Dawn doesn't expect you to manage. She wants you to clear the path for us, doing her legwork. Our stocks are dwindling. We can't risk it now, but someday we will have to. She sends you now so when that day comes, we'll have less casualties." She paused. "And even if you somehow _did_ , it's still better for her. She'll have a whole new set of supplies without _any_ casualties. Either way, she wins."

"I need those vaccines," Rick repeated again, as simple as a fact.

"I know, and you'll get 'em, I promise." She started walking, but he stopped her again in the same way.

"Amanda—I don't want this getting even more complicated. She _ordered_ you—"

"Well—" she cut him off. "I'm not listening to it."

"You—" he replied arching his eyebrow, his voice _almost_ sounding incredulous. " _You're_ not listening to an order?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm _plotting_ a coup, Rick," she shot back. "I think I'm quite past the rebellious stage now." She paused again. "You can't do this alone. I'm _not_ letting you."

His eyebrow arched again, but he stayed silent.

"My hospital, my rules," she retorted. "Besides, you _can't_ stop me, either."

This time he gave her such a look, again Amanda found herself getting…nervous, the urge to turn her eyes away so strong in her but she forced herself not to break the contact. "Is it really bad?" Rick asked.

In silence, she simply nodded. Because it was. It was _that_ bad. She—she couldn't let them go and get themselves killed. He—he hadn't. He hadn't let her go do something stupid…like trying to kill Dawn openly.

After a while, still looking at her, Rick finally nodded to give his okay. Though Amanda _hadn't_ actually asked for it, a breath of relief escaped from her after the gesture nevertheless.

# # #

They found Lamson inside his room, Amanda directly walking to the room on the fifth floor, left wing, at the end of the corridor. She knocked on the room’s door once. "Lamson, it's me, Shepherd,” she called. “Open up. We need to talk.”

Beside her, Rick couldn't help himself but glance at her again. She seemed to get _involved_ , as their commanding officer had called it, too much, a little bit too much, and Rick started getting worried.

She'd almost lost it, tried to kill Dawn, then this… _I'm not letting you… You can't stop me._

The words were uttered firmly, carrying a fierce determination in it, as if he really couldn't have stopped her even if he wanted.

Did he? Did he want her to come with them to that place?

He didn't exactly know. He shouldn't poke at the beehive anymore. His priority was getting the treatment, but both of the possibilities were disturbing him equally: leaving her with these people and going with her to clear out that death wing, clearly ignoring her superior officer's orders, possibly asking for more trouble.

Dawn wouldn't have liked that. But they really needed those vaccines.

Her mood swings were covering a wide spectrum, going from the demure "yes, ma'am" to plotting coups, the way she fired brazen retorts effortlessly, then got shy suddenly. All these swings reminded him a bit of Daryl in a way too, how when he first met with their resident hunter and tracker at the Atlanta camp, the rough man sassed his name, _Rick Grimes_ … Yes, there was a clear resemblance between their brazen, aloof attitude and shyness, Amanda angling it more toward order and discipline as Daryl went with riot and anarchy.

But it was there, Rick sensed it, and again felt like he didn't know what he was supposed to do with it.

Lamson opened his door, revealing a hospital room that seemed like it had been turned into a studio apartment. The man was wearing only the same white tee shirt like Amanda's, APD's insignia at the chest, above his uniform’s pants. With a word, the sergeant stepped back to invite them in.

She quickly walked in. Rick followed. "I was waiting for you," the man said then, closing the door. He reached out for the remote control at the bed and turned off the TV.

And Rick stared.

TV.

A movie—a movie—an action movie was playing on the screen… A movie…

Such a simple, yet a bizarre thing in their life.

Amanda caught his look as he stared at the now black screen hung up at the wall. "Sergeants—sergeants…we've got an hour of electricity for every two days to…relax," she explained in a low voice.

Rick couldn't help himself. "Y-you waste electricity for _movies_?!"

The sergeant shrugged and repeated Amanda's words, "It's relaxing."

He tried to find a suitable word for the sheer absurdity and cruelty of it but found none. There was none.

A slight color rose over Amanda's neck again as she bowed her head, then she shook it, and raised it back to look at her partner. "You know about the vaccines?" she asked, not wasting any more time.

The older officer nodded. "Yes. Got mine too—" He patted lightly at his right upper arm.

" _How nice_ —" Amanda seethed out.

Lamson gave her a look. " _Amanda_."

She held the man's look. "She asked them to clear out Wing B."

That caught the man by surprise. "What?" he exclaimed, "the Death Wing?"

Amanda nodded. "Yes. She wants them to clear out the warehouse. Or—you know, clear out a bit for us…"

His face hardening, the male officer nodded back. "I see."

"They can't do it alone—" Amanda stated coolly. "You know they can't."

"Mandy—" Lamson replied, then with a low sigh, his voice tired. "You know—"

She cut him off, "How long we let this go happen, Bob," she asked her partner, using the man's first name, too. "I—I… You know I _didn't_ stay behind."

"I know."

"He left me behind. He shot me first—"

"It was gunfire—"

Rick frowned. "Walkers are killed by shots to the head," he told the man coldly. "She was shot in the chest, _twice_."

The sergeant frowned, too.

"And I'm not a tall woman," Amanda completed after him. "Look, I don't know if he really meant it or just saw an opportunity, but he did it, Lamson. He left me behind. No. Not only he left me behind, he also took my gun—" Rick snapped his head at her, words surprising him, but suddenly everything made sense.

Of course, she hadn't lost it. "Before I lost consciousness, I was still holding it. When I came to, it was gone. When I first met Rick, I—I tried to steal his gun. I—tricked him and stole it—" A light grimace tugged at the corner of his lips as Rick recalled the moment. "And he caught me, took it back, but still helped me in spite of it. They’re good people.” Her lips lost their tenseness. “And they will go into the death wing because their people need meds. They’re good that way. I'm not sending them alone to their deaths." She paused, then stated again in a clear voice, "I'm going with them. Please, come with me."

In answer, Lamson let out a loaded sigh. "Dawn—Dawn ordered you to stand down, right?"

She didn't lie, "Yes."

"Amanda—"

"We can't let it go anymore, Bob—" she cut him off again. "I—I can't even look at Joan anymore. I'm _terrified_!" Her eyes were dry, but Rick heard tears in her voice as she cried out. "I—I—people get beaten, women get raped, we tell ourselves it's not like that, but it's what _happens_. And we just watch it happen… We have to do something. _You_ have to do something. Dawn will never stop Gorman as long as he plays along with her. She’ll keep him happy."

"Amanda—you know what you're suggesting."

"I _know_ ," she replied, voice adamant. "They're running Grady into the ground. We have to stop it."

"If we take down Dawn, it's me vs Gorman. We'll lose people."

She nodded. "I know."

"We need numbers. There aren't enough of us," her partner replied, shaking his head.

"You have _people_ —" Rick told the sergeant, taking a step forward. "Train them, teach them how to fight."

Turning to look at him, Lamson gave him an incredulous look. "Are you joking? They're women, old people, young men and girls. They don't know how to fight."

"Then teach them—" Rick repeated. "One of my best men was a pizza delivery boy before the turn, and the other used to help his local pastor on Sundays. Maggie was just a college student. Another was a housewife. They all learned how to survive, how to protect. If you give them a reason, people will fight for their lives, for the people they care about and love."

Amanda nodded, agitated, walking over to stand beside him. "He's right. I _saw_ it,” she said, the fire in her tone again. “His people aren't like us, but they're as good as us. I saw what they've managed." Her eyes flicking to his before she continued. "Their home is dirty, their clothes are worn, their floors filthy. They have no rules, no order…I mean, not a lick of it, but still they’ve managed far better than us."

Rick was staring at her, the words…sounding so genuine, so earnest, so fierce… slipping through his insides… hearing them, it—it meant something. Prison… he wanted it to be a home for his family, a home where they could be still safe and secure, where he could put it back together—with his children…and Lori… He swallowed… suddenly disturbed, turning his eyes from her as if—as if he were doing something he _shouldn't_.

Was he?

His head bowing, he caught the glimpse of his wedding ring, the sleek glint of the gold, still on his finger. Rick pushed away those thoughts and turned to the officers again. He—he _shouldn't_ think of that.

"Do you really want that?" the sergeant asked. "We're gonna take down Dawn and Gorman and train Noah, and Joan, and Percy?" the man asked again, voice skeptical, but there was no hesitance in Amanda’s voice when she answered:

"Yes, we will."

# # #

Rick told the rest of his people after they left Lamson's quarters and returned to the suite. They were sitting around the small round table in the bedroom, across the hospital bed where Beth lay, looking better.

"The doctor vaccinated her?" Amanda asked Maggie, her head twisted toward the teenager.

The older Greene nodded, looking at the crude plans spread over the table that Amanda had sketched for them. "She said we could have those vaccines from there?" Tyreese asked.

Rick nodded. "Yeah, vaccines and a tenth of everything inside. She says it's a big warehouse, so I guess we'd still get a good amount of them."

"I could do it only for vaccines," Tyreese intoned placidly.

Maggie nodded. "Yeah, me too."

"So, man, where's the catch?" Daryl asked, voicing out the thing they all must be thinking.

"That wing's sealed shut—" Amanda explained. "We closed it around the very beginning. It's swarming with rotters inside."

"Hmm—" Daryl made a noise as both Tyreese and Maggie said at the same time, "We do it."

"Yes," Rick gave a half nod. "Yes, we do it. Amanda has also managed to talk to a few of her colleagues. They'll come with us."

Maggie gave her a look. "Dawn said okay?"

Amanda shrugged. "No."

Maggie nodded.

"How many?" Tyreese questioned.

"Me and my partner," Amanda started counting, "McGinley, Tanaka, and two more perhaps.” Tanaka was a good man, and McGinley had a soft spot for her, or tried to charm her in any way he could to get into her pants, like how Gorman always made fun of him. The poor man never got Amanda never shit where she ate. Bello would want to come too, but basically she was a technician, so Amanda wasn’t very fond of the idea. Licari…well, she didn’t know. If only they had time. “If we could wait,” she continued, “we might manage to convince more, but there's no time. And—and—" She gave them a half-resigned smile. "I really want you gone ASAP."

"That we all can agree upon—" Maggie muttered, and Amanda held back a sigh.

Well, she supposed the older woman had her reasons to be mad at her. Amanda tried not to take offense this time. The younger woman turned to her sister and gave Beth a look as the teenager laid in the bed, listening to their conversation. "Someone has to stay with her."

Beth cried out, "No!" She raised her arm. "Amanda says it's full of walkers. You need each other. I'm fine."

"No—" Maggie shook her head. "I'm not leaving you here alone."

"Yeah—" Rick said, "She's got a point. Someone has to stay with her."

Amanda could see the problem. They were already so few of them but Maggie was right. Leaving Beth alone? Hell, no. "Maggie, I'm fine—you don't need—" Beth started, but Amanda cut her off.

"No, your sister is right. It's best to be cautious—" Pausing, she turned to Tyreese. "You have to stay with her and—" she turned to the medic, "You, too. In any case."

But Maggie shook her head again. "No. Tyreese can go with you. I stay with her."

Amanda held her another sigh. Why the woman had to oppose everything she said, she didn't know. "No," she said calmly, "Look, you're surrounded by trained cops here, and I told you about this place. Gorman isn't here now, but if he returns, he might want to check out what's happening, and if that happens when we're not here, I'd prefer Tyreese to be here with Beth than you." She tried to make her voice as placid as possible. "It's nothing personal, just a fact. Gorman is a former SWAT officer. If things go south, you can't hold your ground, but Tyreese can. But you can kill rotters. So Tyreese stays, you come with us. Okay?"

Giving her a semi-glare, this time the older Greene nodded. Amanda turned to Rick. "You said you cleared the prison. How?" she asked.

"The entrance hall—" he asked her instead of answering. "How is it?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Full of rotters," she repeated.

He nodded. "A’ right, we do it the hard way. We'll open one side of the door, pull them out, and manage it from there.

"We _tried_ it, too—" she said, stressing out. Of course they did. "It didn't work. That's why we sealed it shut after."

Rick let out a subtle sigh then. "Well, officer, you weren't desperate enough, I guess."

# # #

In an hour they were ready, standing in front of the double doors into the hospital wing in a semi-circle defense line.

They had managed to gather up three of their friends, like Amanda counted on. The officers took the flanks of their line. Rick was in the middle, of course, at his right side stood Daryl, as the other one was taken by Lamson. Amanda was beside the sergeant, and there was that disturbance in him again. He felt he _should_ have her beside _him_ , not her own partner, but Rick pushed the thought away vigorously, annoyed that even now he managed to think something like this.

Maggie was standing next to Daryl, as the other officers were finishing their half-arc. Tyreese and Bob had stayed with Beth as Amanda had quite…elegantly managed to convince Maggie, her words as matter-of-fact as stating weather, that the older woman couldn't have held her ground against Gorman and his like.

 _I don't get into fights I know I can't win…_ the words turned in his mind, and Rick tried not to think what else they could mean… with a grimace, he steeled his mind and focused ahead. This wasn't helping anyone.

"You sure that you want to do it like this?" Lamson asked beside him suddenly, glancing sideways at him.

"Yeah, it’s fine. We did it a lot before."

"No,” the sergeant said with another look. “I'm not talking about that—” He half tilted his head at Rick. "Like this—without protective gear. We could try to find some gear for you guys."

Rick gave a side look at their vests and gear, understanding the man’s words. "Nah…” He shook his head. “We're good. Like I said, we did it a lot before."

He couldn't see it but he could swear Amanda lips quirked up a bit after that. He could _sense_ it. Rick raised his arm and aimed at the lock where they'd welded it close. "You ready?" he asked, waiting for three seconds before he fired.

One shot, echoing in the empty corridor, and the welded iron lock dropped on the ground. The metallic wing doors shook with the momentum of blast, and through the gap between them, slowly rotten hands started showing, clawing to find their ways out.

Rick tucked his gun back into his holster. "Get ready—" he ordered, raising his machete.

As the first stepped out through the doors, Daryl was already shooting his first bolt.

Then others followed.

# # #

It was insane.

Amanda couldn't think anything more than that. The way they did it, fierce, deadly, and insane, and it was working.

They had a different kind of order, working like a well oiled machine, everyone doing their job, their ranks holding as Rick barked his orders.

And it was so… _easy_ to follow him.

Granted, Amanda had never had many problems to follow orders, but it felt like a…dance…a sort of macabre dance; wild, savage, almost barbaric, and deadly, but it also had a rhythm.

It should've frightened her, but a part of her liked it, the way she liked sex rough and raw…giving yourself to the moment, living in the moment—and letting it go.

And the thought was there even before she could realize it as she stabbed a rotter, blood running over her wrist; her eyes flickered to Rick as she imagined how it would be having sex with him…this savage…this wild…

He was bestial again, just like how he'd beat shit out of Tyreese, feral. It was as if it was the real man he was, the violence, that ferocity was a part of him, too, as much as the sadness she saw in his face when he sacrificed his pigs for them or the way he looked hugging his son. The juxtaposition of two direct opposites were just so bewildering, Amanda couldn't help herself but stare at him, even circled with rotters all round.

"Formation. Get in a circle—" he ordered, slowly taking steps as they moved around when the flood of rotters started dwindling. "We're going in."

She took another side-step, getting into position into the circle, but somehow a hand caught her wrist and started pulling her aside. She darted her eyes and saw him staring ahead as he brought her at his side. Then he let her go, not saying a word.

Her heartbeat hastened, but Amanda didn't make a sound either, just stood beside him as they entered.

# # #

It was close to the evening when they finished it.

Rick stood in the warehouse, breathing laboriously, his muscles straining with fatigue, but they had gotten their vaccines.

And Dawn was still nowhere to be seen.

A few officers had come and started making an inventory to separate the goods, but as of the moment Rick couldn't give a damn as he stood with one hand propped on a metal shelf, his head bowed, sweat and blood dripping over his forehead past his brows and to the ground, as he was just too busy with feeling good about having the damn vaccines and being _alive_.

He started laughing.

And she was still beside him.

He raised her head and looked at her. She wasn't clean now. Blood covered all of her: her uniform, her face, her hair, her hands—everything, blood, flesh, and sweat. She leaned towards the loaded shelves tiredly. Their eyes caught on each other, before she started laughing with him, and she looked happy.

And, it was the most beautiful sight Rick had seen in a long time.

# # #

Before the moon came out in the sky, they cleaned up and put back together after their ordeal at the west wing. Amanda returned to the suite after leaving Dawn's office.

The woman had been—amicable. At first, Amanda had thought she was playing some game again, but there was nothing at play. Perhaps she hadn't still discovered their involvement, or she didn’t particularly care at the moment. She'd gotten herself a full entrance for another warehouse full of supplies, so maybe Dawn didn't really care.

They weren't dead, and nothing had happened. So perhaps she was looking at the other side again. Amanda didn't know, didn’t care, either. Not at the moment. Now she cared about one thing alone. They had the vaccines, supplies, and medicine. And now, they needed to leave. The thought was still bittersweet, the reality—but…but…

They still needed to leave.

She remembered the moment as she'd laughed with Rick without any fucking reason—other than—she didn't know—feeling happy. God, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd actually felt like that, happy—not caring—a lightness inside her…and it'd felt good, so good…and she wished…

She stopped herself.

No more wishes.

She…she could always have her memories…remembering the way they laughed in the bleakest, worst days. It should be enough.

She touched at her pocket—that memory and her flower. It was enough. She'd been dealt worse hands.

Far worse hands.

Inside the suite, they were all there, aside from Rick and Daryl, still looking all joyful as much as they had been. Amanda stood at the foot of the bed. "How ya feeling?" she asked the teenager.

"Good—" Beth replied. "Still having a bit of headache—" she continued, "but a lot better."

She nodded, walked closer to her, and leaning forward, she kissed the girl on her forehead. It felt…so good, too, it almost broke her heart. "I'll come back later—" Amanda whispered to her. "Got a surprise for you."

"Really?" Beth whispered back.

"Hmm mm… remember what I owe you?" she asked her, smiling, inching away a bit. "I'm a woman of my word."

Beth laughed silently after that, realizing what she had meant as Amanda gave her a quick wink, straightening up.

She found Rick inside the drawing room with Daryl, talking in whispers beside the window. Seeing her, both men gave her a look. Daryl started walking out, giving her a half nod in recognition before he left. Amanda closed the adjoining room's door behind him, and then they were alone.

"Hey—" she greeted him, walking toward him at the window. He was leaning against the windowsill, the side of his right hip propped against the wall with his elbow at the window. He dropped his arm to his side as she approached.

"Hey—" he whispered to her slowly.

She fished out a package from her pocket and extended it to him. "For Judith—" she explained. "I didn't know if there're children’s disease vaccines in the warehouse, so I got Edwards to prepare a set for you."

Rick nodded, taking it from her. “Thank ya.” He paused. "And Dawn—?" he asked.

Amanda shrugged. "I don't know. I just saw her. I think she decided to look at the other side because we actually managed to clear out the warehouse without any casualties." She stopped a second and laughed. "I guess she wasn't really expecting that." She shook her head. "Can't really blame her for the lack of faith, though."

Rick smiled at her comment. "Neither can I—" he confessed then his eyes found hers. "Couldn't do it if you weren't such a stubborn mule."

She laughed again. "Why, thank you, Rick—" she almost cooed, then looked him back in the eye, her expression turning serious. "I'm not a quitter. I don't give up easily."

"I know," he said in return and swallowed. "I—I have to go," he finally announced lowly.

Feeling resigned, Amanda nodded. "I know," she said. "Did you think I haven’t noticed you brooding with Daryl away from others?"

"We don't know how things are back at the prison,” he explained. “They need those vaccines. They might not see the morning. We can't wait.” He paused again. “Daryl and I will leave. The roads are dangerous in the night. The others will follow at dawn."

Slowly, she nodded again in acceptance. "We'll keep them safe one night more."

He—he had to go. Amanda knew. She wanted him to go, too. All of them. Be safe. Be away. Then they could start to deal with the mess they have.

It was time to say goodbye.

Looking at her, he shook his head, letting out a sigh. "I—I could ask you to come with me, but I already know your answer."

"I know—" she said, nodding again. "I wish I could, Rick, but I can't." She shook her head, feeling tears filling in, and how much she fucking wished… "Sometimes I—really wish I was dealt with another hand…you know—like I was born into a family like Beth's or…something else…but this is—" She gestured with her head, "what I'm dealt so I have to play my hand."

He nodded in silence, his eyes still on hers, and it was a fucking struggle not to cry… "But…but… I'm glad—" her voice wavered, her head raised up so she could look at him. "I'm glad I knew you at least for a while."

"I'm glad, too, Amanda," he replied softly, his hand reaching toward her face. His fingertips gently cupped her cheek before he leaned on toward her and placed a soft kiss where he’d just touched her. She shivered with the contact as he whispered into her ear, "Thank ya for proving to a wanderer in the woods there are still good people out there, my lady."

She laughed, the merry sound escaping out of her, and she felt her eyes moisten, but she wasn't crying. She was…laughing. She was still happy. He pulled back, and she fixed on him a look, raising her head at him again. "This is _not_ a proper way to say farewell to a lady, Rick," she whispered to him, taking a step closer, angling her head up an inch higher.

And he understood what she was demanding.

A kiss… Just a kiss, to remember him by, her memories and her flower… and his kiss.

Wordlessly, he took a step forward, his arm circling her waist, pulling her to his chest as his other arm coiled around her neck. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned her backward and kissed her like a proper gentleman for a long, long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you must be as much shock as I am, seeing that nothing actually bad happened! They are all happy, even though Rick and Amanda parting ways. From the start, I was moving them into that road, having a goodbye kiss like that, you know, like in old times, Gone with Wind style, or bridal style, they're saying goodbye bittersweet... still happy.
> 
> Needless to say, being happy never lasts long in TWD, and in my stories, for that matter. He he.


	13. Chapter 13

**XIII.**

In the parking lot, Daryl closed the Tucson's trunk as they finished packing up the share they'd agreed to take. There was also the respirator Dawn had promised and the defibrillator they had found in the Death Wing, so they loaded them at the backseat, too, now ready to leave.

Yet, Rick made another tour around the car, surveying the parking lot. The night was silent so faint snarls and growls of the walkers nearby could be heard distinctly. The moon was pale, but stars were bright without the city lights, scattered like little gems in the purple-grey canvas. Seeing the desolated, destroyed city like this was even more unsettling. Rick had never seen the city skyscape with so many stars before. He'd been looking at it before Amanda—

Amanda…

Rick’s eyes darted up toward the east wing of the building where the suite they'd holed up in was located, and he wondered if she was still beside the window, watching outside after he'd left her.

After he'd kissed her.

Soft lips, slow but willing. He'd kissed her for—he had no idea. It…It'd felt like forever or a second, and he didn't care, not a damn bit…Time was relative, time was flying, time was stuck. So he just held her in his embrace, arching her backward as they kissed slowly, softly, tenderly, no rush, no fever, no brash passion…just a gentle goodbye kiss; a good memory they would always hold to themselves, a remembrance of each other, a closure they both needed.

Rick had no idea for what, but he still knew they needed it.

And now it was ending. He was leaving. Yet, he still hadn't gotten into the car. His eyes turning upward, he wondered if she was trying to look for him down here like he was…

A low cough echoed faintly in the silence. Turning aside, Rick gave Daryl a look as the hunter stood on the other side of the car, his hand at the passenger's side's door. "Ya 'kay, man?" his friend asked.

Rick nodded briskly.

He was…okay. It was just a goodbye kiss. She’d made her choice. Rick understood. They were still her people. And even if she came with him, lived with them in the prison, what would've happened?

What Rick could give her anyway? What was left of him to give to any woman now? No. Rick only lived to keep his family, his children safe.

Would she be safer in the prison?

No. Nowhere was safe anymore. He was trying—he was, but. Perhaps it was the best. Parting ways like this, always remembering each other fondly before he would fuck up and disappoint her in the end.

And why was he even thinking like _this_?

As if… as if… as if…

He shook his head, chasing away the thoughts trying to slip in. His eyes caught the glint of the gold at his hand as he raised his hand to open the car. "Yeah, I'm okay—" he muttered, getting in the car, keeping his eyes firmly ahead, not upwards, and closed the door.

He started the engine.

It was just a goodbye kiss of two people who knew they were never going to see each other again.

# # #

Her forehead resting on the window, Amanda stared at the parking lot. She couldn't exactly see them from up above the fifth corner in the east wing, but she knew they were there. Knew _he_ was there. So, she looked...

Unshed tears were still in her eyes, and she felt…melancholic, just staring at nothingness in the dark, the feel of his lips over her lips and her forehead, the feel of his beard still tingling over her skin.

And how good it felt—like—like it was the easiest, simplest thing in the world, kissing him, being _kissed_ by him, smooth like they'd been doing it for a long, long time - like their bodies already knew each other as she fitted into his embrace effortlessly.

Amanda had never kissed anyone like that before, had never even thought she would _want_ it. Amanda never enjoyed when things got too sensual. Kissing most of the time even bored her. Usually she just went for direct act; fast and quick. His kiss was the quite opposite; slow and outstretched. She'd felt it continue forever—a long, long while, just kissing him, her hands roaming at the back of his neck and his head, into his dark curls, pulling him closer as he tightened his arms over her further to hoist her up, her feet barely touching the floor…

And she wished it could've gone on forever. She felt she could've done it forever. When they finally parted from each other—she literally had no idea how long after— she almost asked him to stay overnight so they could've had that as well: a full _night_ to remember, not just a kiss. She'd almost done it, too, asked him to spend the night with her in her room, but before the words came out of her, she swallowed them.

Not only because she knew he couldn't because his people needed him at the prison, no. It'd been only one part: the reality part, a fact of their lives. But it wasn't what had made her swallow the question in her throat.

Amanda hadn't asked because simply, she didn’t want to. She didn't want him to end up like one of those men she'd had sex with for one night, feeling nothing, just taking what she was needing, not caring about anything beyond. She—she wanted him to be different.

Because he was. He was different.

So, she stayed silent as he slowly untangled himself from her, their eyes still glued on each other, and their foreheads inches apart. They stayed like that for a while, too. She had no idea how much again. Then he tilted his head down further and gave her a brief kiss on her forehead before he whispered to her, "Stay safe."

He turned on his heel a second later and without a backward glance, walked out of the bedroom. Amanda turned to the window then, rested her forehead against the cool glass, and looked outside in silence.

Oddly enough she still wasn't sad. Melancholic, bittersweet, perhaps, but not sad. She—she was glad it'd ended like this, not in tears.

She could still hear the happy content sounds from the other room. They’d saved their people and they were returning to their home tomorrow, so Amanda told herself it was a good ending. She pulled back from the window, distinctly aware of the tail lights of a car driving away from the parking lot.

It—it could've been worse.

She raised her hand and wiped the unshed tears away from her eyes and went to find what she'd brought earlier in the room for Beth.

She still had one promise to keep before it was over.

# # #

As also the reason why Rick was doing this with Daryl alone: the night trips were the worst.

In the dark, it was impossible to see the road clearly, the head lights not making much of a difference. Rick tried to focus on the road ahead and what might lie ahead: the road and the prison alike. Daryl wasn't the best road-trip companion either as the hunter was never much of a talker, not that Rick wanted to chitchat about anything right now. But every once a while, the man darted uncharacteristic quick glances at Rick as if…as if he sensed something was off with him, and Rick was getting annoyed.

Rick just wanted to go back to the prison now and end this. The sick might've gotten worse, and he had no idea how the fences were. He’d other things to worry about than—than—than… he didn't know. Kissing a girl?

Even in his own mind, he sounded stupid.

His hand tightened over the wheel, his head angling an inch downward, his brows furrowed, Rick stared at the road. Whatever _this_ had been, it was finished. He was going back to where he belonged, where his people, his family, and his children needed him. He didn't need any complications in his life. He had responsibilities. He'd fucked up so many times, he couldn't— _they_ —his family couldn't afford for him to fuck up another time.

He needed to get his shit back together. This wasn't helping anyone. His jaw tightened, and Rick almost heard the sound his teeth made as they clenched. Daryl finally turned his head to look at him, staring at him openly. "Ya really 'kay, man?" the roughish hunter asked again.

Curtly, Rick nodded, and repeated, "Yeah. I'm okay."

# # #

"No—" Maggie remarked firmly, giving her a stern look as Amanda extended the flask in her hand toward Beth. "No—you're _not_ making my little sister drink that stuff."

Amanda let out a sigh. "C'mon—" she said, sitting at the bed's edge beside Beth. "We won a great victory today. She deserves a little bit of celebration."

Maggie was sitting in the chair next to the bed. A few feet away from them Tyreese stood beside the door as the first watch. The medic had gone inside to rest as he was going to take the second watch.

So, it was the time that Beth Greene should have her first drink, just like Amanda had promised. Still glaring, the older Greene repeated with a hiss, "I said no."

Amanda let out another sigh as Beth whined beside her, "Maggie, please, I want it. Just lemme try, 'kay? Just a sip."

"How old are you, Beth?" Amanda asked. "Seventeen, eighteen? I was ten when I had my first drink."

"Really—?" Beth asked, looking at her as Maggie snorted.

"Yeah, it was a dare—" Amanda replied. "One of the boys dared us to get inside the house and drink our foster parent's stash," she explained. "I had no idea what I accepted. I guess I hadn't learned not to be goaded into stupid challenges yet then—" she laughed, remembering. Maggie was looking at her as she listened to her story but wasn't commenting on anything. "Anyways, we found an old whiskey bottle,” Amanda continued. “Found ourselves a corner in the backyard and started drinking. God, it was _so_ awful… I mean, I couldn't even wrap my head around the fact that anyone would've wanted to drink _that_." She laughed again.

Amanda still didn't like whiskey all that much, but sometimes a girl just needed a drink. Beth gave a look at the flask in her hands. "Is it really that bad?" the girl asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, never make your mind on something before you try it—" Amanda quipped, extending the flask again.

Beth gave her sister another look. This time the older Greene nodded, but warned, "Just a _taste_."

Grinning, Beth took the flask. "By the way, this is against the law—" Maggie told her as Beth opened the cap.

Amanda shook her head. "No. Georgia lets above eighteen years old have drinks with a family member or with a guardian—" she shot back and gave the woman a triumphant smile. "And she's with both now."

“She’s still seventeen,” Maggie pointed out.

Amanda sighed again. “Life’s too short.”

Smiling back, Beth took her first sip of alcohol, and her lips pursed immediately. The teenager coughed. "God, you're right—" the girl muttered low in her throat, extending the flask back to Amanda. "This is awful."

Amanda nodded with a small smile, too, "Well, I _warned_ you."

"Let's play a drinking game—" Beth suddenly suggested, but this time both Maggie and Amanda refused.

"No—it was only a sip. No drinking games—" the older Greene informed her sister firmly as Amanda nodded.

"You're still sick, and we need our shit clear—" Amanda said, "so, yeah, no drinking games. I just wanted to keep my promise."

Beth's hand found her hand on the bed and gave her a squeeze. "You did, Amanda. You found us vaccines."

Swallowing, she nodded. "But—but we could still play, right?" Beth asked, taking her hand off and gave both of them a look. "I'm…kinda bored and I—I don't feel tired anymore. So—can we talk?"

God, she… _hated_ talking. "No—" she said quickly. "You need to rest. You'll leave at the first light tomorrow. You heard Rick."

Beth shook her head in defiance. "No. Tell us something you miss from the old days," she demanded.

Amanda fixed at the teenager a mock-stern look. "I miss the days when I gave an order to a young lady and my words would be listened to."

Beth puffed, resting against the pillows. "Pfft. You're no fun. I—I—" she said then, pausing as if to think something… "I miss…dancing," she announced a second later. "I used to dance in the field on our farm. It was good."

Looking at Beth, her sister nodded. "I remember you doing it. You used to sigh and dance all day in the summer."

"Yeah…" Beth said with a wistful sigh. "The good ol' days…"

"I missed swimming in the river—" Maggie said. "You remember?" she asked Beth. "We used to run around, then take a dive."

Beth smiled at her sister and turned to Amanda, looking expectant, waiting for something from her, too. The first thing that came to her mind, the very thing Amanda missed most was….being alone and not getting scared of it, but suddenly the whole thing seemed—so… she didn't know, strange?

She felt the familiar disturbance in her again, her mind going back how she used to stay at sidelines, hiding behind a tree or something at the family picnics, and the same feeling was with her again, so she blurted out the second first thing that came to her that sounded enough _normal_.

"I—I miss running," she said, and it wasn't a lie. Amanda still ran on the treadmill in the make-shift gym center they'd fixed up every day, another allowance for sergeants to keep up in good shape. She'd even managed to fix herself a trapeze bar with a hammock to the ceiling for her aerial yoga work-out, but it wasn't still the same. No, not even close. "I used to run every day before sunrise," she continued, "before the city woke up and started its routine…do a workout. It was nice."

It was nice to feel the city slowly waking up from its slumber—people slowly coming out of their homes into deserted streets as she ran, ran, ran… It used to make her feel—hopeful? She didn't know.

Now, each day she woke up to a dead city, smelling napalm in her nostrils with rotten flesh and blood, and instead of open air, she ran on the treadmill. She guessed no better words could summarize their new world better than that.

She swallowed, shrugging. "I still run on the treadmill, but it isn't the same," she added after a while, for what she wasn't sure either.

"Yeah, I know. I used to sing a lot, too," Beth said. "I still do—but it isn't the same, either."

"I missed the magazines," Maggie said suddenly, as if to disrupt sudden heavy talk between them. "You know…gossip."

Beth smiled. "Ah… I missed gossiping…"

Amanda pursed her lips, and lowered her voice a bit down, leaning forward. "I miss…sex."

Then they started laughing. "Uh, well, I guess I _don't_ miss that," Maggie said, giving a side look at Beth as the young girl threw her head on the pillows with a huff.

"Pfft, it's hard for me to miss something I've never tried…fully."

Maggie frowned, as Amanda gave the teenager a look. "Fully?"

“Well—” Beth said, “I made it to second base with Zach—”

"Okay—" Maggie cut her, standing up, "’kay, this play is over. This is enough corruption for my lil' sister for a day."

Amanda stood up after that, smiling. She nodded at the sisters. “Have a good night, Greenes. I'll be on the couch if you need me—" she said. "I'll be seeing you at dawn."

To say another goodbye. For the last time.

Amanda walked to the couch in the bedroom, where the medic was still laying down, so she walked to the bed instead. She sat down, settling her back against the headboard as the man softly snored. Her eyes turned toward the window on their own account, and her fingers touched at her lips.

Then a few tears slipped from her eyes, and before she knew it, she started crying silently.

# # #

They returned to the prison before the night aged further. Michonne, seeing the head lights, had already begun pulling down the ropes to open the gates, and snarls and wails had turned into a loud chorus. There were too many walkers outside the fences, way too many of them.

As soon as his eyes fell on the undead, Rick knew he'd done the right thing. This—this was where he belonged, what he should do, no more complications, no more…not knowing.

He turned off the engine and stepped out of the car quickly. "What happened?" he asked Michonne as Carl ran toward him.

"Dad—" his son jumped on him, hugging him tightly. "You came back?"

Rick’s arms tightened around Carl automatically. "Yeah, we brought vaccines,” he replied. “Beth's cured. They'll come back tomorrow." He paused, and gestured at the trunk, pulling back from Carl. "Brought other meds too. We need to get ‘em to Hershel—"

Daryl came to his side. "They’re shit heavy. I get the car at the second gate. We carry ‘em inside from there," the tracker said.

Rick nodded as Daryl got in the car again. As he drove up over the steep incline toward the second fence, Rick turned and gave another look at the fences. They were many people on fence duty, killing as many walkers as they could manage, but it was still too much.

"What happened?"

"I don't know—" Michonne said, shaking her head. "They just keep coming."

"The wooden beams?" Rick asked. "How are they holding up?"

"They're holding for now—" Michonne said crisply, and gave him a jerk of her head. "How did it go down there?"

Rick let out a sigh. "Better than I expected—" he said. "C'mon, let's go. I want to see the fences first. Then I need to find Hershel."

Michonne nodded. "I was going to check on him. We check in every hour," the katana wielding woman said. "You go look at the fences. I'll see you in A Block."

Rick nodded, then started walking away with Carl toward the chain-link perimeters. "Amanda also managed to get us vaccines for Judy," Rick told his son, knowing that it would make Carl feel better, too. "It’s gon’ be good for her."

Rick felt much better, too, back at…his home, his son beside him, and he felt so proud …his son doing this, keeping their home safe. Carl was becoming a man. His little man was becoming a real man, and Rick was proud of him.

They were going to manage, Rick knew. Carl raised his head as they quickened their steps toward the fences. "Amanda—” Carl said suddenly, and for a second, Rick’s step faltered. “Will she come back, too, Dad?"

The moment, though, passed quickly. Rick started walking again. "No—" Rick said, tossing a glance at his son. "She'll stay with her people, Carl."

Where she belonged.

# # #

There were no sounds in the rooms now, no one talking or snoring even though they weren't sleeping. Everything was in silence.

Amanda was still looking at the window, her eyes hurting, but she'd stopped crying.

It was going to pass, she told herself. In time, there’d only be memories.

She fished out her flower from her pocket, almost dried up now, small petals turning downward, so she held it delicately, afraid to touch. While she looked at it, she wondered how she could keep it. Safe and in secret.

# # #

It was a loud cracking of wood they heard first. It was followed by even a louder metal creaking above the sounds that walkers made. 

It came from behind them as they walked away from the people who were doing the stabbing job. Then screams followed—

Rick turned—

 _"RUN!"_ Rick screamed, drawing out his gun as Carl did the same.

The wooden beams were coming apart, falling down, and with them, the fences too. On the people. The crowd started running away, but already two of them were bitten, screams ringing out in the air.

Rick raised his gun and shot at a walker who was just about to bite a woman's neck, and the woman—someone had brought her a month ago, Rick couldn't remember who, couldn’t even remember the woman’s name… Rick shouted again, "Run, now!"

But it was already too late. Another walker took a bite, the woman fell on the ground, screaming. Rick urged Carl, pushing at his back. "C'mon—" he fired, agitated. "We need to get guns."

Guns… They needed guns. The fences were coming down. He briefly wondered if there were dead animals again at the baseline, but Rick never had time to check. A second later, the fences fell down completely with metal groaning and creaking.

Rick didn’t waste any time after that . Snarls and growls of the walkers were like screams of hell in the night. If he _ever_ found out who was feeding walkers…

"Back to the watch tower—" he urged Carl, giving him another push as the others—the few that remained- started following them. There was nothing to do for those who stayed behind.

 _You stayed behind…_ the words echoed in his mind, but Rick shushed them down. “Run—quick—!" he bellowed instead, screams behind them becoming louder and louder. He pushed Carl forward again. "Faster!"

For all the things sacred that Rick had never believed in, they reached the guns they'd stashed behind the watch tower before the dead fully overran the perimeters.

He quickly grabbed a submachine gun and started instructing Carl how to use it. He should've done it long ago, _long ago_ , but he pushed away that thought too, just like he pushed away what would’ve happened if he wasn’t here now—all these people, prison, and _Carl_.

No. Rick _was_ here.

He took the magazines and turned to Carl as his son took another one too. "A’right, listen to me," he told his boy, twisting the gun aside. His voice was urgent, but his instructions were specific and quick.

"Magazine goes in here—" Rick tapped at the bottom of the weapon. "Release is here—" He pointed at the top of the weapon at the back, and warned, "Make sure it latches. Pull back the operation rod—" he demonstrated as he instructed, "and rounds feed up." The mechanism gave a click while he did it, and Rick held the weapon secured under his armpit. "Keep squeezing the trigger for rapid fire, okay?"

Carl nodded. "Okay."

"You shoot or you run—" Rick turned aside and stared at Carl clearly, trying to tell him the words could never manage, but he still tried. "Don't let them get close, okay?"

Carl nodded again, and they stood side by side father and son, and started shooting.

The second time in the day, Rick was again fighting for his life, for his son, for his family, to live another day to keep them alive.

# # #

When the morning came, their casualties became clearer. Rick was tired, tired to his bone, tired beyond belief, beyond words, beyond meaning, but still alive. Almost dead yesterday, perhaps dead tomorrow, but today he was still alive.

Returning to the yard of C Block, he stopped in front of the water tank. His reflection wavered over the greasy surface, and for a second or so Rick couldn't even recognize himself from all the blood over his face. He sunk his hands in the water, washed the blood off of his hands and then off his face.

It could've been worse, he told himself.

Not all of them were alive now, but at least _they_ were alive. If wasn’t here—if he hadn't come back—if he hadn't left the hospital—

Just like last night, Rick stopped the thoughts, what ifs… He _was_ here. This was the hand he’d been dealt, and Rick had played it. His boy was still standing beside him.

Glenn and Sasha had taken the vaccines. Hershel had taken one, too. They'd lost people, yes, inside A Block and around the fences, but they were still here. They were still together. They were still alive.

He told himself again it could've been worse. Much, much worse.

Soon Maggie, Beth, Tyreese, and Bob would return too, so it would end, until another disaster found them.

There was no escaping from it anymore. He just couldn't go play with his farm. He had to accept that; find a balance, find a path between, be a leader and be a good father. Nothing more, nothing less.

He ran a hand over his face, scrubbing his beard, feeling water drops over his skin, over his hair and heaved out a deep breath. Hershel found him there, slowly limping toward him.

If Daryl weren’t with them in A, the thought came to his mind, but Rick pushed it away, too, and swallowed. "You okay, son?" the oldest Greene asked.

Rick gave a half nod. He’d been hearing the same question a lot since last night. He wasn't okay, not right now, but he was going to be.

Soon.

He _had to._ There was no other choice.

"We did our best—" Hershel said after a pause and told him what Rick had thought too. "It could've been worse."

Again, Rick nodded silently.

Below the steep hill, at the watch tower, he heard Carl's high, piercing voice, "Dad—!” his son shouted. “They're coming—"

Rick bolted toward the gate to the blocks. He opened it quickly, springing down the steps as Carl and Daryl were already on the way to the main gate to open it for the approaching black Dodge.

They were returning. It was finished.

Rick ran faster. Hershel was behind him to greet his daughters as they returned, limping behind him. The gates opened as Daryl pulled down the ropes, and the black car sped through it, cutting through a few walkers that were still lingering over the trenches.

Rick stopped, waiting for the car, but instead of skidding to a halt, the black Dodge just continued, speeding up over the hill…

Then Rick understood. It _wasn't_ finished.

Turning on his heels, Rick started running back over the slope toward the blocks.

The car stopped a few seconds later at full speed, tires screeching loudly. Maggie stepped out of the driver car and Rick saw blood—all over her… The older Greene yelled, "DAD!" Her voice rang clear in the morning air— "DAD, HELP!"

Rick ran faster as Hershel started dragging himself as fast as he could. From the passenger seat a woman—a dark curly hair woman and a lanky, gaunt Afro-American boy stepped out, both in scrubs, blood covered scrubs. Rick just ran faster and faster…

No.

"Open the door!" Maggie screamed at them, running around the car as Bob…dropped out of the backseat. Rick saw, from the car’s floorboard, his clothes—all of it—everything—everything was soaked with blood—so much blood—not of walker blood. He knew—he knew the difference…

"Quick—" the medic shouted. "She hasn't got much time left—lost too much blood..."

_She…_

His hands startled trembled as he ran, his eyes desperately looking at the people he didn't recognize—no Beth—no Tyreese.

 _Please…please…_ Rick heard Beth's voice, "Bob! Bob! She's—"

He couldn't hear the rest—

He stopped dead in his steps, frozen, all the blood in his veins turned cold, turned him to stone as he saw the car…the backseat….

Amanda laying over Beth's lap…blood pooling around her— _out_ of her…her blood—everything was covered with her blood—the seat, the floor, the car, Beth… _everything_ … She was deadly white, pale as snow… Carl's white body flashed in his mind as frozen Rick looked at her…

 _"RICK!"_ Someone called out his name, but Rick couldn't register anything further, because he was still staring at the gunshot wound in her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, I'm running away to hide now :)
> 
> So Amanda is back, with a gunshot wound, a dramatic entrance, and all, scaring Rick out of his mind, of course, in the meanwhile.
> 
> I mean, I really hope you didn't think that I'd make them leave Grady without any shit happening.:)
> 
> I really enjoy writing their thought process after the kiss, too, the differences, Amanda being much more...romantic with it, but I really wanted his last words to her be "stay safe" with a kiss at the forehead.
> 
> That talk between Beth and Amanda about what they missed from their earlier lives was something I wanted to do for a while too, and I'm extremely happy now that I managed to fit Maggie in too :) Good thing that Beth only took a sip, so she could still get drunk with Daryl later. I mean, it doesn't really count. :)
> 
> We'll see what actually happened at Grady at the next chapter, and they ended up like this.
> 
> Cheers.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was writing this chapter, I was listening to WestWorld's amazing new Wicked Games cover from Ramin Djawadi, and I swear, the futuristic robot Dolores is exactly how I imagine Amanda fight and carry herself, having a...mechanical elegance, quite robotic, agile, yet very graceful. I really like it as imagination for Amanda. As a soundtrack, it's also very, very moving, especially the ending part. I strongly recommend it, especially for reading Amanda's fighting parts if you enjoy listening to music while reading.

**XIV.**

As the first light of the new day slowly started slipping into the bedroom, Amanda raised from the bed where she laid staring at the ceiling.

She’d taken off her black shirt during the night and was in her white tee, her radio still at her belt in any case. Her hair in the bun was tousled as she’d spent the night laying awake, alert and ready, waiting to hear anything at all.

Nothing had come.

Relief was like a slowly blossoming spring flower in her insides, knowing that soon it was finally going to be over. Soon Beth and others were going to leave safely, as she wanted.

Leaving her alone at Grady, just as she wanted.

Chasing the thought away from her mind, like she’d been doing since last night, Amanda went to the bathroom in the room to wash her face and tried to get her hair done into a respectful bun again. Her toothbrush was still in her room, so she rinsed her mouth with mouthwash they’d been stocked with, leaving the spare toothbrush in case her _guests_ wanted to refresh themselves.

Grady, always ready to serve and shit.

Snickering inside, she left the bathroom and went to find Beth and the others.

They were half awake too, Maggie’s eyes half red from not sleeping and keeping two eyes open, and Tyreese also spending it like her, fully awake and wary. No. There had been no restful sleep for anyone last night, not even for Beth—who looked much, much better as she rose up from the sick bed, starting to get ready herself.

Beth went to the bathroom for a second and emerged clad in her jeans and light-yellow sleeveless shirt, taking off the scrubs they had made her wear.

The sight made Amanda insanely happy. So, she looked at her, at them, all of them, as the melancholy she’d felt parting with Rick came at her in full force. She—she fucking hated goodbyes, too!

She let out a sigh, shaking her head. “I really hate saying goodbye, too—” she told the girl.

Beth smiled at her ruefully, and walking to Amanda, she gave her a hug, wrapping her arms around her waist. Surprised again by her sudden gesture, but getting familiar with Beth’s affectionate ways, Amanda hugged the girl back. She rested her chin on Beth's sunshine bright hair, heaving out deeply, something seizing in her chest worse and worse. She hoped she wasn’t going to cry, but her eyes had already started pricking.

The door of the suite opened. Amanda snapped her head up and saw Dawn walking into the room, four of her flock at her heels.

Her back straightening, sadness turning to alertness, Amanda stepped up quickly, counting the officers.

She saw Alvarado, Franco, Bello, Mackenzie, not…bad people, but she still didn’t know exactly where they stood. She didn’t see Licari, which was a relief, but she didn’t still like the numbers. And Bello, the short stout woman was just a technician, mostly dealing with their shifts and rations. She had no place here. Amanda wondered if that was another plan of Dawn.

Maggie was decent, and Tyreese was a good fighter. She wasn’t sure of this Bob’s capabilities, and there was Beth too. If anything went wrong, they could…then Licari walked into the room, and Amanda felt tense like a strained bow.

Lamson. Where the hell was Lamson? They’d talked last night that he was going to keep an eye out for Dawn. If…if the woman tried something…

She moved in front of Beth as Maggie came beside her, her eyes squinting at the commanding officer. Tyreese from the corner of the door and started moving back, sharp, his gaze resting on the commanding officer, too.

“Ma’am—” Amanda started firmly, keeping her tone as cool as possible, but Dawn cut her off.

“Are they ready?”

Amanda nodded. “They were _just_ leaving, ma’am—” she said pointedly.

“Deputy Grimes and his friend left last night,” Dawn stated, placid.

Amanda gave a firm nod again. Dawn’s cold blue eyes stared at her, piercing through her. “I gave you a clear order yesterday, sergeant, but you didn’t obey,” the woman stated again.

In silence, Amanda tried to swallow through the tightness in her throat… So much for hoping about looking at the other side… Where was Lamson?

“We cleared out the whole warehouse, ma’am—” Amanda replied, her words as placid as the older woman’s as she started checking the positions of the officers were taking in the room with the corner of her eyes.

The door behind Dawn was still open. Amanda darted a look there as Dawn said, “You risked your life and the others when I specifically told you not to.”

“They couldn’t do it alone.”

“That was a risk they should’ve taken, not us—” Dawn retorted, and Amanda wondered why they were doing it now in the morning, not the last night, then knew the answer as soon as the question popped in her mind.

Dawn must’ve seen Rick and Daryl leaving and opted to wait until the morning. But for what? She frowned, “Ma’am—” she started, “They were _just_ leaving. We—we can talk about it after they leave.”

A full grimace flattened Dawn’s lips. “You’re _telling_ me what to do, Shepherd?”

God. This was going wrong, so wrong. Amanda stared the woman in the eye as cool as possible, again, and stated calmly, “No, ma’am. I’m just informing you. Deputy ordered them to leave at sunrise. If they don’t return in time, he might get worried.”

She hoped the words would be enough to back her up, but Dawn grimaced further. “Hmm, I see—” their lieutenant said, her eyes moving over them, assessing, Amanda knew, then continued. “They can leave—” The cold dark blue eyes rested at Beth. “The girl stays.”

Amanda gave out a sharp breath as the rest of them started talking at the same time, hands going toward the hips. Alert and almost panicking, Amanda raised a hand, before things went south further. “They—we had an agreement—” she shouted over the voices. “They got you the supplies, and now they’re leaving.”

“They risked five of my officers’ lives—that _wasn’t_ our deal.”

“ _We_ —decided to help them—” Amanda said. “It’s got _nothing_ to do with them.”

As her words finished, Maggie told Dawn, “We’re not going to leave my sister with you here,” but the other woman didn’t even spare her a glance.

“ _Dawn_ —” Amanda then said, for the first time using her name to the woman’s face, feeling like they were crossing a line. “Let them go. This’s about us. They leave and we talk.”

Her commanding officer just gave her a look in return, and Amanda unfastened her holster. All the other parties followed her example… except Dawn. Dawn just kept looking her in the eye, and her voice was still placid as ever while she asked, “Officer Shepherd, why have you unfastened your holster?”

“I’m _not_ letting you do this, Dawn—”

“I _strongly_ recommend you reconsider that statement, officer.”

“Don’t do this,” Amanda almost begged, shaking her head. “It doesn’t have to be this way. You don’t have to prove anything—” Because she knew it was just that, a power play to show them, teach them because Amanda had disobeyed… “This isn’t a competition. You don’t _always_ have to have the upper hand.”

But the woman was just still staring at her back coldly. “The girl stays.”

Maggie pulled out her gun. The others followed again, and soon they stood in a stand-off, all guns facing at each other, except hers and Dawn's. “STOP!” Amanda screamed. “Everyone just STOP!”

“Listen to me—” she yelled at Dawn, turning back to the older woman. “Even if you did, even if you keep Beth, they _will_ come back for her. Rick will _never_ let her stay. If you did this, it’s war.”

Dawn stood there, and behind her, Amanda saw her co-workers still pointing guns at her, officers she had known almost a decade, living together for two years now, and she was clearly seeing where this was going… and she didn’t want it… God, she just wanted—

She turned to her co-workers. They…shouldn’t want this. “Do you want this?” she asked them, almost desperately, and in a way, she was, she was desperate. “Will you LET her do it?”

Grady was their responsibility. Their own mess… But Dawn hadn’t touched her own gun yet, even though all of the guns, except theirs were out. Amanda knew it was just another power struggle too, to determine her place again, and Amanda was sick of it, sick to her bones…and tired. “She’s RUINING us!” she shouted.

Then a sudden baritone voice announced, “Amanda is right—” Lamson walked in the room and ordered— “Officers, stand down.”

Amanda almost let out a breath of relief.

Lamson was their only shot, the second high-ranking officer aside from Gorman. If anyone could stop Dawn, it was him. And he’d said Amanda was right, right in front of Dawn.

And that finally made Dawn react. “That’s enough—” the lieutenant shouted. “Everyone, stand down. The girl stays! That’s an ORDER!”

“Dawn—you lost control,” Lamson said, walking to her. “You’re not yourself anymore.” He paused for a second, before he stated in a deep but certain voice, “I, the senior sergeant Bob Lamson as the second in the chain of command relieve you of your duties.” Amanda swallowed, almost trembling, as his partner turned to the other officers under his rank. “Officers, take her in cust—”

A sole gunshot—a single gunshot echoed in the air, cutting off his words as Lamson’s head was suddenly blown off before her very eyes—she watched with widened eyes—they all watched with widened eyes…

And the senior sergeant Bob Lamson, the man Amanda had been with for almost a decade now in the force, her partner, her partner that used to drag her to family picnics or cops nights, her partner that bought her a goldfish for her birthday because he wanted her to have…something…waiting her back at the home, dropped on the ground, dead.

A scream erupted out of her as she drew her gun, and behind him she saw Gorman at the door, his gun raised in the air—trained on her—and she did, too, but she knew she was already too late…she wasn’t faster this time…

She just looked at the barrel of the gun, her scream still at her lips, her eyes pricking, and…waited _… I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,_ she muttered inside, but she wasn’t sure to whom she was exactly asking for forgiveness… To Lamson, to Beth…to herself…

Gunshots were echoing in the room, and Gorman was giving her a smile, a taunting quirk of lips as his finger squeezed the trigger. Amanda almost closed her eyes, waiting the end, but a shadow suddenly fell—obscuring her—a mountain of muscles—large and wide—blocking the way—

Amanda recognized it.

The bullet that was aimed at her entered Tyreese’s upper back—inches close to his neck, and Amanda screamed even more as the big man pushed them inside the bedroom of the suite and closed the door hurriedly behind.

“Go—” Tyreese screamed at them, blood sputtering out of him as they ran toward the second door exiting out of the suite and stepped out of the corridor, running to the first corner.

They were—Gorman and his pals, and the others… Licari… Mackenzie, Alvarado… they were all out in the corridor—shocked but not stopping anything, just watching… “Go!” Tyreese yelled at them again. “I’ll hold them back—Just go—”

“NO!” Amanda screamed as Maggie rushed at the man, “We’re not gonna leave you—” Maggie told the man heatedly.

They couldn’t. He'd taken a bullet for her—he— “I’m done—” the biggest man Amanda had ever seen said, and turned to her. “Take them out of here. Go.” He turned to Maggie again. “Tell Sasha I love her so dearly.”

In tears, Maggie nodded, Beth crying beside her, as the medic looked horrified. Amanda just wanted to turn and kill the bastard… She just wanted to…

Out of the corner of her eyes, Amanda saw them approaching, guns still in their hands. She made her choice. “Quick this way—” she yelled, pushing two women and the medic forward, giving the man who had saved her life a last look over her shoulder, blood—his blood pooling at his feet, muttering a “I’m sorry.”

She was. She was so sorry…for everything.

# # #

“Mandy—Mandy—Mandy—” his voice cracked from her radio as Amanda made them run through the corridors towards the back exit.

The exits were always guarded by them. She had no idea who was holding the gates this morning, but there was no choice, either. They couldn’t jump out of the windows. They just couldn’t.

“Was I interrupting something?” the fucking bastard taunted her. “You know you both gave me no choice,” he continued conversationally. “I couldn’t let Lamson take the lead.”

She lowered her hand at her belt and grasped her radio. She pushed at the talk button forcefully. “I’m gonna kill you, you sonofabitch,” she swore, and she was—she didn’t know how, but she was going to kill him. “I will.”

She let the button go, and his voice came back from the other side. “Let’s be real here, Mandy—” he said. “If I didn’t do it, you were going to do it to _me_.”

Yes, and her only regret now was they hadn’t done it before, had let things go this far—too far— so she only repeated, pushing on the radio again. “I’m going to kill you, Gorman, even if it’ll be the last thing I do—I AM going to do it!”

The man laughed at her from the other side of the radio as they ran in the corridors. “I killed Dawn, too—” he told her. “If it makes you feel a bit better…”

No. It wasn’t…it wasn’t making her feel better. Just madder. It should’ve been her who killed the bitch. _Her_. God. She tried to stay focused as they looked for a way out—soon it was going to be hell—a chaos.

Amanda still just wanted them gone…so she could deal with the bastard.

The parking lot.

She needed to take them out to the parking lot. Their car was there. If she just brought them out there, they could still leave. She looked at Maggie as they ran in the corridor. “We need you to get out to the parking lot so you can take your car and leave,” she said breathlessly. “but I fear they’ll be watching the exits.”

“What are we going to do?” the older Greene asked.

She shook her head. “We’ll try the back door, it’s close to the parking lot, but we’re gonna need to cut our way through—” She flicked her eyes at Bob and Beth before looking back at Maggie. “Are you ready for this?”

Maggie gave her a firm nod. “Whoever stays last, takes them back.”

With the same firmness, Amanda nodded and turned to Bob. “How are you with guns?” she asked the medic.

“I’m—I’m not that bad—”

Amanda looked at Beth, too. “How are you?”

“I can run fast—” the teenager said in return, keeping her voice fast, and Amanda nodded again.

She turned to the older Greene again. “You cover them, I cover you—” she told the younger woman, “If something happens, you have to go east—” she instructed, directing her arm toward her left side for direction. “Take the stairs. We’re on the fifth floor, so count down. If you can jump from the first floor, don’t risk the gate.”

“Amanda—” Beth exclaimed beside her. “Don’t talk like that.”

“You have to know!” They had to. If something happened to her, she couldn’t have them running around like headless chickens, directly in Gorman’s arms.

They were going back. One way or another.

Then her radio cracked again. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Mandy—” the bastard told her. “You—you can still stay—mop our corridors, dust our rooms, make my _bed_ —” he laughed. Amanda felt blood running through her veins boil. “You _all_ can stay. You and your little friends… Beth, I heard her name…right? Little, pretty thing…”

Then she lost it. She grabbed the radio again, yanking it up to her mouth. “I’m gonna cut off your cock and make you eat it, Gorman, do you hear me!” she shouted. “You’ll choke on your own dick, I SWEAR IT!”

The only answer she had was another sinister laugh, and Amanda let the radio go, her hands trembling. She shook her head. “You need to go…” she whispered, taking another turn. “You—”

\--and stopped in her tracks, coming face to face with Gorman and his lot at the end of the main corridor. She saw O’Donnell and Grant a step behind, and _Licari_ , the fucking prick finally choosing a side. They raised their guns, and started shooting at the same time… Amanda ducked back around the corner at the last second.

“I could hear you scream back there, Mandy—” the bastard yelled at her, _still_ laughing as they took cover behind the corner. “You’re a screamer, aren’t you? I always wondered—”

She let the words wash over her, understanding the man was playing with her. She’d just given away her location, yelling. She had to play smart. Four of them, armed and fully engaged against her and Maggie, and Bob who could barely hold his ground, and Beth without even a gun.

They had to be smart. Maggie took the opposite side of the corner, checking the corridor they’d retreated from. Amanda quickly darted a look behind her. The corridor ended with a dead end that way; the operating room of the floor. But they couldn’t stand here as well.

To their left, Gorman and his lot were approaching. They could leap at the right side, but that meant they were going to be under open fire, crossing the intersection. She supposed she could cover for them, but four of them against her… well, there was no other way out. They needed to reach the staircase.

“Okay,” she told them, turning aside as Bob and Beth came closer. “We need to cross to the other side—” She pointed at the opposite side, their right. “We’re sitting ducks here. Bob—you take Beth, and run for it,” she instructed quickly. “We’ll cover you. Maggie, you’re following them. I’ll cover you. And I’ll be the last. You cover me from the other side.”

Maggie gave a quick peek at the main corridor and pulled back, shaking her head. “They’re on left side. It’s gonna be my blind spot from there.”

Amanda looked at her. “I know—” she said. “We have no other choice. We can’t stay here.”

Understanding her point, the older Greene nodded. Amanda turned to Beth and Bob, “Okay—when I count three. Just jump and run as fast as you can and take cover. Don’t forget about making zigzags.”

They nodded. Amanda gave a look to Maggie, and she nodded back, then started counting. “Three… two… one… Go!” At the same time, they turned aside from the corner and opened fire as Beth and Bob made a run for it, gunshots echoing in the air, and as soon as Bob vanished after Beth at the opposite side, they pulled back, too.

Maggie gave out a loud sigh, and Amanda nodded at her again. “Your turn.”

With another breath out, Maggie leaped out and ran as Amanda covered for her, and quickly stood just at the edge of the wall. They gave each other a quick nod, Maggie and Bob raising their guns. Amanda sprinted out in the corridor, gunshots firing, her arm raised as well—then her side erupted in pain .

There were screams in the air, she wasn’t sure of herself, or of others from the other side of the corridor as a bullet passed through her. For a split second, she saw Gorman’s lips quirking as she held her side, pain dulling everything—everything, her hands already sticky with blood.

Her blood.

Years ago, when she was just past being a rookie, in her second year, Amanda had been shot in her shoulder once while on duty when she was after a perp with Lamson. The whole experience had made her reconsider her life choices, making her consider if she should quit. Amanda had never been an adrenaline junkie, no, she always hated surprises, things out of ordinary. She hated getting shot, too, even though she liked being a cop.

Despite the obvious hazard of the duty, being a cop usually was a pretty boring profession, everything well-ordained and compartmentalized, everyone knowing what they should do and what they shouldn’t do at the same time. Just the way Amanda liked things, a perfect routine, an endless pattern. Sometimes she honestly couldn’t decide why she’d wanted to be a cop, but she always liked being one. It’d just seemed a good choice at the time. She _had to_ be something, had to find a way out… and uniforms…she liked uniforms…safe and…untouchable…

It’d seemed like a good decision…but Good Lord, it WAS fucking hurting!

She stumbled on her feet, holding her side, her white tee already soaked with blood as hands grabbed her, pulled her in the corridor—she couldn’t see properly. Pain—pain was dulling everything, even her senses… and she was trembling.

After a while Amanda couldn’t be sure how long - she slowly started registering the world again… “Amanda! Amanda!” Beth was calling out to her. Amanda opened her eyes as she understood she couldn't see properly because her eyes were shut closed… When she did, she saw their horrified expressions. “I—I’m fine—” she tried to mutter, words barely making it out.

Bob was kneeling in front of her, checking the wound in her abdomen. “It’s still inside—” he rasped out. “It’s—but—it inched away from your liver…”

She—she—she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but she knew it wasn't a good sign. It was almost impossible to survive a direct shot to the liver… The bastard hadn’t shot her at her guts at least. God, it hurt so much…

“We—we n-need to g-go,” she stuttered the words, though she wasn’t sure how she could manage it now. She could barely stand on her feet, blood already pooling around her, and she knew they were coming… She remembered Tyreese, but leaving them now in this shit alone, it felt wrong… She wasn’t a quitter, she never quit. She never gave up.

There had to be a way… She—she had to hang on—if today was going to be the end of her, she still preferred it to be on her terms.

_Life’s a struggle. You give up when you’re dead._

Who said that? Was it her? Somehow she couldn’t remember, but it didn’t make any difference. Because she still wasn’t dead. There was still some breath left in her lungs.

And she’d promised—promised to get them safely back. Hard to do it if she was dead.

She tried to form up a plan, a way to get them out of this maze of corridors and out to the parking lot as soon as possible. A way to escape. There was always a way out, she always believed that. Always. Suddenly to her left side a door—a door to a closet opened, and she faintly heard her name being called out…

“Officer Shepherd!” the young boy voice called in hushed voice. “Officer Shepherd, come!”

Barely registering it, Amanda turned aside and looked at Noah, Dawn’s ward as he stood with Joan.

Amanda then smiled.

# # #

Hidden inside the closet, they were fussing with her wound. It was the hospital’s cleaning closet, stocked with sheets, towels, and other items, and it was a good thing because two of those towels were getting wrapped around her stomach. They fixed them with the ribbons of sheets as Amanda lay on the floor, Beth and Maggie tying the ripped up sheets around her torso.

It’d at least slow down the blood loss for a while.

There were tingles all over her body, and it was getting cold, so cold, but Joan—as an emergency room nurse, she was as even better than Bob.

Above her, ripping up the sheets, Maggie spoke. “We need to get her to the prison… Our people can help her.”

Prison… Amanda thought as a part of her slightly got annoyed as they started talking as if she weren’t present… But prison…getting back to the prison… to Rick? The thought sent a surge of…something through her…perhaps a side effect of being shot, but the realization was obvious, too.

Lamson and Dawn were gone, so the hospital was Gorman’s now. She couldn’t stay here. She—she _had to_ leave. But it felt wrong, letting the bastard take it—the notion disturbing her as much as the bullet somewhere in her abdominal cavity.

“Where’s the prison?” Joan asked.

"Almost an hour trip—" the older Greene answered. "If we take the long road. If we take the short, forty. But Amanda said the short one has more walkers."

She shook her head as much as she could manage, at least to let them know she was still there. "W-we can't t-take the risk. I-85's f-full of rotters."

Joan looked down at her. "Amanda, you can't take a one-hour trip," the nurse told her matter-of-factly.

Meaning, she would go into shock because of blood loss. She pushed the thought away.

"First things f-first," she said instead, forcing her words to clear, and failing. "W-we—we n-need to get t-to the p-parking lot." She breathed out laboriously with the pain. "T-this all i-idle talking if we c-can't get to t-the car."

Joan shook her head, looking back at her. "No—we need to solve the blood problem first," the nurse said, adamant, and then asked, "What's your blood type?"

Amanda understood what the woman was asking, "B positive."

Suddenly perking up, Beth shared a look with her sister. "Maggie and I have the same type,” she remarked. “Are we—are we gonna do a blood transfusion?"

Amanda turned to the medic and the nurse. "Can we? Can we do it?" she asked, feeling even her tongue getting heavier, and knew they needed to hurry. The pressure bandage was slowing down the bleeding, but she didn't have much time.

Joan nodded, and replied quickly, "We need an blood transfusion kit. Direct transfusion is too damn risky. But yeah, I think I can find one around here." She gestured with her head toward the closet. "We stock the closets good in this hall."

Then they just had to find a way out of Grady.

Easier said than done. But she _didn’t_ have time to sit on her ass, bleeding to death. Holding her ground, she tried to pull herself back to her feet, her other hand clutching the metal shelves on the wall closest to her. “We—w-we need to go—” she said, forcing herself up along to a metal beam. “G-give ‘em to Bob. He’s g-gon’ d-do it in t-the car,” she breathed out laboriously.

They had to leave. Now.

“Gorman is holding all exits, Amanda.”

Amanda heard the words but she could only manage a hiss, as pain and everything hit at her when she stood up fully, her sight blackening for a second before the world turned back to itself, still misted heavy with fog in her mind.

They needed to _hurry_. “I know—” she said. “But we—w-we have to try—” she swallowed. “I—thank you. I—I’m sorry. I—I wish I c-could help y-you,” she whispered, words heavy not only because her tongue still felt like a dead weight in her mouth. “I w-wish—”

Joan cut her off. “We want to come with you. I don’t want to stay here anymore. I—I _can’t_. You know I can’t.”

And she knew, god, she knew… “Joan… I—Gorman—Gorman will try to k-kill us as soon as he sees us-s,” she stuttered on her words further. “If y-you’re w-with us—”

“I’d prefer to be dead instead of being with him anymore. Amanda, I _can’t_ stay.”

Slowly, her head heavy, she nodded, but turned to Maggie, too. It wasn’t only her decision— Rick…Rick couldn’t deny them… Rick… the thought sent another surge of something though her—maybe it was really a side effect of blood loss…

She was going to see him _again_? The thought frightened and excited her at the same time, and she decided it was really because of blood loss.

# # #

“The elevator shaft—” Noah said as they tried to form up an escape plan still in the closet after Amanda collapsed to the floor. She felt so heavy… Her gun was still in her hand, the Glock Rick had given her, but it was so heavy…her limbs listless… “We can escape from there.”

They all turned to the tall, lanky boy—Amanda tried to, too— “The exits are closed, right?” Noah said. “They’re gonna be looking for you there. I—I was looking around. Just…you know, find a way out.”

Amanda knew. She’d seen him—eyes wandering. For a while, Amanda used to wonder if the boy would dare it, but he had never. Not until today.

Perhaps it was a miracle, she didn’t know… her head still felt so heavy, cobwebs in her mind…foggy.

She looked down and saw the red soaked towels… It was no use…she…she was losing so much blood…

 _You give up when you’re dead…_ she told herself…

But it was getting harder…

They started ripping up sheets again, this time to tie them up, and Amanda just sat down and tried…not to die.

# # #

Everything was fuzzy—

They were lowering her through the elevator shaft, and she felt it more than knowing. A sheet was wrapped around her again—and she was hanging in the air… It felt like she was doing one of her aerial yoga workouts, wrapped in sheets, defying gravity…hanging in the void, hanging by a thread… Wasn’t it always how she felt? Always hanging by a thread…

Then she felt soft mush beneath her as her body finally submitted back to gravity… a mush of rotten flesh and blood—dead…

She knew what it was— The end of the bottom…she hit to the bottom…

She vomited—she must be—something was coming out of her…

Perhaps—just her blood—she didn’t know…

Dead, the bottom…smell…rotten flesh…all of it…blood…her blood between them, and it felt like a nightmare.

But under her closed eyes, there was Rick… He smiled at her, his lips touching at her forehead… “Stay safe…”

_Safe?_

She felt hands grabbing her up—lifting her, and she couldn’t even open her eyes anymore, her eyelids were so heavy, so she just let them…

“Maggie!” Beth screamed somewhere in the dark… “We’re losing her—hurry!”

Amanda thought they were talking about her… God, wasn’t she supposed to be the one who should’ve saved them…

# # #

She was rocking back and forth… she—she felt the motions resonating in her… her eyes fluttered open—looking upwards and scenes passing over her eyes like a lucid dream… Everything felt like hazy, quivering, aside one thing in her arm, feeling just a bit sturdier… But she didn’t know… Amanda didn’t know anything anymore. She was just hanging by a thread in the void… “Beth—are you okay?” a voice asked…

_Beth…?_

Then she realized…as if it were a priori in her…something she knew from the very beginning… She was laid out in Beth’s lap, motions rocking them back and forth, moving… and something—something was between them—

It felt like a lifeline, holding her anchored in the ground, keeping her…attached…that sturdy thing in her arm. She—she didn’t want to feel in a void…hanging by a thread. God, she was so…tired of it…

She felt…so wet…soaked…sticky… and so limp, weightless…light… as light as a feather…falling down…

She tried to turn her head side and tried to see her lifeline… and entering into her… Life…

Then before the darkness claimed her again, Amanda understood.

Her blood.

Beth was giving her blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, oh my god, I did it! I was liking a LOT Amanda and Greene family having a familial connection, and I asked myself how I could carry on further, so I had this idea, Beth and Amanda having literally the *same* blood, as Beth literally keeping her alive all the way back to the prison. Because first, let's face it, no one could've lived that long with such a gunshot at the abdomen, I'm no medical professional, but I imagine it's quite impossible, and this way is just so much better. Amanda is literally *having* Greene blood now. YAY! I have to admit, making Rick having a heart attack seeing Amanda like that wasn't the *only* reason why I let Amanda suffer a gunshot wound ;)
> 
> I know the last parts are quite dizzy, as they were from Amanda's POV, and she was suffering from a blood loss, so they had to be that way. I liked this idea, but I'm not totally sure of its execution of it. I let you to decide. Nut I totally ripped off Noah's canon plan to escape from Grady, because why not :) And I like the idea Noah and Joan helping them escape, after Gorman's sudden show up, and creating a massacre.  
> I chose to go with that road because of the shocking novelty of it, he he. Walking Dead does it always, I shall try my best, too :) And, having Amanda threaten him to make him his *something* was kinda fun  
> And yeah, Tyreese sacrificed himself for Amanda... I just needed him to gone, frankly, because they needed to have less manpower, and well, Amanda had to survive a headshot, lol So, goodbye, the mountain of muscles, you'll be always remembered fondly :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A word of notice; I'm no medical expert, so everything I'm actually writing about a gunshot and a surgery here would be--probably is, too, wrong. Worse, I've got such a low tolerance for any sight of blood--I tried to search through internet for a bit to sound at least a bit more professional, and almost got a faint. LOL. I kid you not. The things I do for stories :)
> 
> PS. I'm so tired now, so I can't do any proofreading, so things might be a bit rough with grammar, I'll try to fix it better tomorrow. Thanks.

**XV.**

His shock only lasted for a second after that—a split second that felt like eons—just like the time he'd kissed her—time was relative, time was flying, time was stuck—and she was dying.

Rick knew, barely hanging on.

The dread, panic, and fear caught him all at the same time, tightening his chest so much Rick couldn't even breath, the next he sprinted to the car… _No…not again…please, not again…_ the pleas were turning in his mind on a constant repeat even before he even thought of them as he bent down toward the backseat to take her up in his arms.

He—he should've never left her in that place!

Never!

Never!

How he could've been this stupid!

He—he should've protected her. Kept her safe… He—he should've… Sprawled over Beth's lap, unconscious, his eyes noticed the tube the next second, coming out of a blood bag at Beth’s lap and finishing inside a catheter in Amanda's inner elbow, a line of red connecting them, continuously dripping… Another one was attached to Beth as well, as the teenager filled another bag…. Beth was feeding her with her blood…

"We need to prep her—be quick!" the strange woman who had come with them was screaming behind his back. "She—she hasn't got much left—"

"Daryl—where's Doctor S?" Maggie yelled on the other side of the car, but silence was the answer Maggie received. Rick scooped Amanda up in his arms, careful not to disconnect the catheter and blood bag as the newcomer woman leaned over his shoulder from behind, agitated. "Beth, it's enough for you, pull it out,” she ordered Beth. “Maggie will take it from here. We'll check you."

Quickly Beth obliged the dark curly haired woman, and lifting up her in his arms, Rick pulled Amanda out of the car.

She sprawled backward, limp in his arms, her arms and legs dangling over his arms listlessly. Rick started running toward the prison… She was like a life size doll of red and white, her face snow-white but smeared red with blood, everything… her face, her hands, her arms, her tee shirt…aside the black pants of her uniform, everything—everything of her was white and red. Her blood was coloring him red too—soaking his light beige shirt he'd put on this morning red—her blood—

His eyes darted over her limp form… _I'm not a quitter. I don't easily give up…_ her words were echoing through him… She didn’t, Rick knew she wasn’t a quitter, and perhaps it was the reason why she was dangling listlessly over his arms now, because she didn't know how to give up and leave things alone. _You fool…you bloody fool—_ he wanted to yell at her, he wanted to scream at her, he wanted to kick her ass, he wanted to kiss her senseless….

 _Hang on…just hang on…_ His eyes flicking to her, Rick whispered at her, running.

Everyone else was running after him, too. Out of the corner of his eye, Rick picked up Hershel arriving and coming to them. Daryl had already opened the gate. Rick passed through it as he ran as fast as he could, questions still turning in the back of his mind rapidly, but he didn't stop to ask anything. He just ran as fast as he could.

"Maggie!" Hershel shouted at his daughter, arriving to their side as Rick started crossing the front yard. People finally noticed something was happening, too, and stopped dead upon seeing him—and Amanda. "What happened?" the oldest Greene asked what Rick still couldn't have known.

"We—That man—he came back—Gorman or something—started shooting… His partner—Tyreese… God—" Maggie shook her head. "I'll explain later. Amanda got shot as we tried to run… We—we escaped with Noah and Joan. They helped us."

Rick shot a look over his shoulder and understood who the dark curly woman was they'd come back with. "We made a blood transfusion. Beth—Beth gave her blood. Joan took care of it. She’s a nurse," Maggie continued as they entered into the prison. "I was driving the car. We—we had the same blood type."

Thank god for small mercies.

Suddenly out of the corner of the hall, Michonne and Carl appeared. "Dad?" his son exclaimed, looking at him with widened eyes. "Dad…what happened?"

"She—Amanda—she got shot—" Rick finally spoke, taking the corridor toward the infirmary. "They just came back." He turned to Bob and the nurse. "We—we took a lot of supplies from Grady last night—" he told them. "What do you need?"

He didn't ask if they would manage it. Bob wasn't a surgeon, but he'd been a medic. Though, he didn’t know how much the medic’s training would help. The man also had other problems, as Daryl had told him. But there was still Hershel, who had already saved Carl once. Rick turned aside, and the man who was still limping behind to catch him gave him a look, and Rick clearly read it…

"We'll manage," it said. "We managed far worse odds—" 

But were they? Were they really managing? He had thought—believed last night it finished… Last night was like hell, but they won. Now they were losing again.

Everything they did somehow always ended up in a mess. It never finished. Never. Never a reprise. They just lived in an interim between one disaster to another. Sometimes not even linear.

If he was there this morning at Grady—perhaps, perhaps he would've stopped what had happened. But if he wasn’t here last night perhaps, they would've lost the prison. Perhaps he would've even lost Carl.

Rick wanted to blame himself for leaving—for not being there—for not stopping it, but he couldn't even do it now. Not anymore. Rick couldn't even blame himself for his fuck ups anymore. Either way, they always lost in some way, like they were stuck in a game where the house always won at the end.

Hershel turned to Daryl as they arrived at the room they used as an infirmary. "Daryl, we need power here," the old man told the hunter, and understanding the inquiry, the hunter gave a half nod back.

"Got it—" Daryl said before he started running toward the other side where the maintenance rooms were stationed.

Generators, auxiliary units, the boiler room—

Rick stopped the thought as soon as it crossed his mind—curtly—swiftly—not letting it go any further.

 _No_.

No. They would find a way to cheat the game again. They'd done it before. They were going to do it again. She—she wasn't going to die—die on him. Rick wasn't going to let her.

Quickly he put her down on the metal gurney and leaning forward to whisper to her ear. "You're a fighter, I know, you're," Rick told her so lowly only she could hear…if she were conscious… "So fight, Amanda—" he rasped at her, " _Don't_ die on me."

He didn't know if he was ordering her or begging, but nevertheless, she let out a soft hitch of breath as if she'd heard him. Leaning even further, Rick almost touched her forehead with his, but before his lips could make the contact, let her know he was with her, others circled them. The dark curly hair woman pushed him away from the metal table to make herself room.

Rick took a step back as they started working on her. She was going to fight, he knew, with her everything.

She didn't give up—not without a fight. In that regard, despite their many differences, they were very alike. He trusted her always to find a way to fight.

The nurse turned over her shoulder to look at Maggie as she took scissors from the tray next to the metal gurney and started cutting off Amanda's white tee shirt. "Maggie—come! Quick!" the woman shouted and raised her up at him, her hands still cutting Amanda’s shirt. "We need another blood transfusion kit and somewhere for her to sit,” she ordered. “Maggie needs to start giving blood."

Rick pushed a chair over to them quickly as Hershel started limping toward a cabinet. Maggie started taking off her shirt and sat down as Hershel gave the nurse the blood kit they’d brought from Grady. The nurse started inserting the catheter into Maggie's arm as Bob set up the respirator and started intubating Amanda.

Rick felt grateful for the equipment, at least they were better equipped now than the time they'd had to cut off Hershel's leg.

Yes, she wasn't going to die today. They had meds, the right equipment even as scarce as it was, and they had Hershel, a trained medic, and a nurse who looked like she knew what she was doing.

Yet as Amanda lay down sprawled out in front of them over the gurney, her torso bare sans her sports bra as they started working on her, she suddenly trashed up, her body convulsing with a powerful seizure. The next second, her whole body started cramping and contracting, barely touching the metal surface—

Rick took a few steps back and hit the wall.

"She's going in hypovolemic shock!" the nurse screamed. "We need dopamine or epinephrine. Someone find me an IV bag that says Ringer's solution and get me some warm blankets!"

"Rick brought a stash last night—" Hershel said, bending over her to assist Bob with intubating to give her oxygen as she continued seizing, and turning aside, the older man pointed at the shelves where their share from yesterday had been placed.

The dark curly woman sprinted toward it, pushing a trolley she found in the room and started throwing down the meds and supplies quickly on it. Rick just stayed along the wall, watching the scene. Aside from Maggie, who was supplying her with blood this time, there was no one else now with them. They were alone in the infirmary.

Rick hadn't realized that others had stopped outside when they'd gone in, and they were all doing their jobs, aside from Rick, who just was watching them in silence, his back at the wall.

The nurse saw the defibrillator they had also brought yesterday. "Is it working?" she asked quickly.

"Yes—" Hershel said, his head bowed, trying to tie her to the monitoring machine now, trying to close the clasp of the pulse ox monitor on her shaking fingertip, the chest monitors already in place. They ran the monitor a few seconds later, and the beep of her heartbeat filled into the room.

It was the best music Rick had heard...and like all the good things in their lives, it was short lived. As it started with a staccato rhythm, pulsing beats, it slowed down after a short while, two times having deep strikes before it finished with a blazing flatline.

For a second that felt again like frozen in a bubble, Rick looked at her—as her body stopped seizing, her movements ceasing, then a lifetime later Amanda dropped down on the gurney—listless, like a puppet with strings suddenly cut off, and stayed motionless.

# # #

Rick was still staring ahead—his eyes on her unmoving body—seeing but not—registering.

It—it felt he was in a void.

She—she…she couldn't—

She couldn't.

She—she wasn't a quitter. She didn't give up. She—she'd heard him. Rick knew she had.

She…she couldn't…die…

Yet, the baleful continuous beep of flatline was still echoing in the infirmary.

There were screams in the air, too. They were shouting at each other as Rick stared at her. So pale, so red…so beautiful. He—he'd never told her how beautiful she was, he realized.

Never said how beautiful she looked when she was happy, and never said it was the most beautiful sight he'd seen after a long time.

Screams…there were screams in the room…and Rick registered that someone was calling out to him again… "Deputy! Deputy!"

_Deputy…_

The first woman who had called him like that after a long time was laying in front of him now like a puppet whose strings were cut off… and in his mind, he saw her smiling at him dryly, lips closed… _So, Deputy, what do you do with yourself when you're not rescuing women in the woods?_

_I watch them die._

"Deputy!" the woman screamed again, turning aside to him as she started CPR with Bob. Rick raised his head at her. "Defibrillator—we need to revive her!"

The words cut through the void like lighting. Rick started sprinting at it. He pushed the machine with the handles and electrodes as the nurse yelled at him again. "Quick!"

The woman took the handles as crouching down Rick began putting the plug into the outlet. She was a fighter, he told himself. She wasn't done yet. Finishing with the power cables, Rick yelled back, "Done—"

The nurse quickly arranged the charge level and gave the handles to Bob as Rick pulled back. With a deep breath, the medic told the woman, "At three—one… two… three…Clear!" Leaning down, he put the paddles on Amanda’s chest, and they discharged into her body.

Amanda convulsed once again, shooting up from the gurney before landing back on it.

_Come back!_

They all lifted their heads, listening to the flat beep—Bob said, "Again—"

They went through it again—Amanda shooting up in the air, then falling back like an empty sack.

And it was only the continuous beep of the flatline they heard. Rick stared at her…so white, so red…so…no…not dead…not yet.

He lunged forward and grabbed the handles from Bob and pushed the man off. He turned to the nurse as Hershel looked at him. "Charge it up—as up as it may go—" he ordered, and added sternly as the woman hesitated. " _Do it._ "

Amanda could take it. She _was_ going to take it. She wasn't going to quit. No. She _wasn't_ going to die today here on this metal gurney. Rick wasn't going to let her.

The woman turned it up to the full charge. Rick counted down from three… "Three…two…one…clear!"

He pressed down the paddles. The electric charge went through all of her body—Rick even felt it through the plastic handles—tremors passing up his own arms. Her whole body violently jolted in the air, jerking—then she fell down again.

Giving the nurse back the paddles, Rick leaned down over her, putting his hands at the both side of her head, and his lips found her ear again, and he ordered her with a clear but stern voice, three words, just three words he knew she was going to hear— " _Wake up now!_ "

He waited, hovering over her…waiting…then a pulsing heartbeat echoed in the air again.

Rick bowed his head further on her as he sighed deeply. He gave the side of her head a quick kiss then, a gentle brush of lips, before he straightened back and left the room without a glance back.

The others could do the rest. She was back now.

# # #

Outside the infirmary, they were waiting. Beth was slumped over on a chair, barely keeping upright. Rick frowned upon seeing her and gave the teenager a look. "Beth, you should be resting now. What are you doing here?"

Carl interrupted him, standing beside Michonne and Daryl. "I told her, Dad—" his son said, as if he was the sheriff of the town. "but she insisted."

"I couldn't—" the younger Greene said, giving them a look, and it was a sort of amazement given to her state, still sick and with less blood, but still fierce as ever, caring—never giving in…the proper Greene blood.

The same blood was going through Amanda's veins now, and Rick thought it was fitting. "We heard the screams—" Beth continued, her eyes having a slight tremor, but she tried to hide it. "Is she okay?"

"She is now—" Rick replied, "She's gonna be okay—" and leaned down to haul the young girl up. "And your dad and sister—and _Amanda_ —" he added, starting to walk her to her cell, "—would give you an earful if they saw you here now."

Beth gave out a sigh. "I know. To tell the truth, I feel a bit faint, too."

"I imagine,” Rick told her, his eyes darting downward. “You did well today, Beth. You all did." He turned aside to the tall lanky boy that still waited in front of the infirmary with others. Noah.

Rick remembered the boy from Amanda's confession. Dawn's personal ward. Rick gave the boy a second look, searching his face to see any bruises. He saw under his eyes a faintest yellowish color under his dark skin, healing.

He didn't know—still—what had happened, but suddenly felt glad that the boy and the nurse had made it out of that fucking hospital. He walked Beth to her cell and lay the young girl on her bed.

"Carl—" he yelled, "Carl—bring Beth something to drink, something sweet."

"I—I'm not hungry—" Beth opposed, but Rick cut her off.

"No. You need sugar and fluids. And you need rest."

Demurely, Beth nodded. "We escaped using the elevator shaft," she started telling him. "It was Noah's plan. We hid first in a closet—tied the sheets together to make a rope, then climbed down the shaft with it. We—we dropped Amanda down with it. I was so afraid she would fall. There were a lot of bodies on the bottom—they…Noah said they throw the bodies there when they died. There were some walkers. Maggie and Joan took care of them. I hope Amanda didn't get any infection from the bodies," she added after a thought. “Or my germs.”

"It's okay—" Rick assured the girl. "We got antibiotics, vaccines, and all kinds of stuff. She's gonna fight and win.”

She was. Her healing wasn't going to be a picnic. His own gunshot wound took him almost two months to wake up, but Amanda wasn’t in full coma. She’d come back. She'd wake up.

The rest—they were going to deal with it together.

But—but the girl wasn't making much sense, telling the story backwards, but Rick couldn't bring himself to press her more for answers. He leaned down and gave her forehead a quick kiss as Beth fell sleep, after closing her eyes.

He left the cell then and went back to the table where they were still sitting close to the infirmary. He wondered where Sasha was, if she'd heard the news. "Where's Sasha?" Rick inquired, looking at Daryl and Michonne.

"She's still in A Block," Michonne answered. "Hershel hasn't cleared them to leave."

"Good,” Rick responded with a restrained sigh. “It can wait—" He turned to the tall, lanky boy. He must be in his late teens, a couple of years older than Beth. "Noah, is it?" Rick asked.

Noah nodded. 

"Rick Grimes—" Rick introduced himself. "I want you to know that we're very grateful to you for what you and Joan did today for our people."

Noah gave him another nod and asked, "Can—can we stay here with you for a while, sir?"

Rick fixed the boy with a look, holding his shoulder. "First of all, you don't need to call me "sir". You can call me with my name, like everyone else," he said. "and you can stay as long as you want. You helped our people. That makes you one of our own." He paused. "We—there will be expectations for you, too—" he added, remembering Amanda's words. “You make your own contribution whatever way you like."

The former ward nodded again. "Thank you. But I can't stay long. I have to find my family."

The words brought his old memories back, but…but almost two years in the turn, Rick knew it was a little bit too late for that. It made him feel heartsick, feeling pity for the boy. "Do you know where they're?"

"Yes, s—Yes, R—" Noah stammered, fighting with words, then settled with, "Mr. Grimes. When it all started, I was with my dad, and we were looking for my uncle. We had an accident. I woke up at Grady. They took me in but—" he paused and stopped.

"But left your dad," Rick completed lowly. "I know."

"He might've returned home."

Rick bobbed his head, thinking Amanda would like it. Bringing Noah back to his family. It—it might've taken her mind off from what had happened at Grady. "Where is your home?" so Rick asked.

"It's…it's in Virginia, s-s—" he stopped again, before he said another sir, and Rick frowned, but not because of that. Another state. "We—I used to live in Virginia, Alexandria. My uncle lived here in the city, so we came to look for him. We have a town there. We have walls."

Rick nodded. Walls. He'd like to have walls, real walls, too. Not just fences that had already come down. But Virginia… "It's a long way, Noah—" he told the boy. "It's—" A sigh escaped from him. He wished he could, but they couldn't risk it. "You don't even know if they're—"

The boy cut him off, this time having an edge to his voice. "I—I have to find out."

Rick nodded. "I understand." He paused. "Then stay here until you decide it's time to leave, then we'll provide you what you might need for the road."

Another nod, and Noah accepted it this time. "Thank you, s—Mr. Grimes."

Rick sat down at the table. "But I want to know now what happened after we left the hospital," he said, his voice losing its softness, an edge roughening it this time. "Maggie said Gorman came back. Was it him?" He rasped out, anger finding him again. "He shot Amanda?"

Daryl, who had been in silence beside him until then asked, too. "He came after us or in the morning?"

"In the morning," Noah answered dutifully. "But he didn't start this. It was Dawn. She—she got very furious when Officer Shepherd didn't listen to her and went with you, especially taking Sergeant Lamson with her, too. I think she might've—overlooked it if it was only her, but Sergeant Lamson got her afraid. Dawn was very afraid of him, as he was in her second command with Gorman," Dawn's personal ward started explaining. Rick noticed the boy hadn't used any title for Gorman. "She—she had a picture…of herself and our late captain. Captain Hanson. She—she threw it at it at the wall last night. I cleaned it after her. She—she used to do it when she got really angry."

Rick wondered if Noah got another beating as well—he couldn't see anything _new_ over his face, but didn't ask, either, not to mortify the late teenager, but asked, “You talk about her in past tense. Dawn, is she dead, too?”

Noah gave him a quick jerk of his head in the affirmative. “Yes. Gorman did it,” he stated and started his tale again. “Dawn heard you were leaving at night, so she waited until the morning. I wasn't there, but I heard what happened. She demanded Beth to stay with us for Officer's Shepherd's involvement, mostly to punish her and let them know they couldn't disobey her."

Rick sighed. He should've known. He knew it was dangerous to leave them, but he had no other options. He nodded at the boy, gesturing for him to continue, wondering when Gorman would show up. "I don't know what happened exactly, but I saw Sergeant Lamson walking to the suite. Then Gorman and his team came back."

"What happened, man?" Daryl asked again, cutting it short, getting cross with the winding details. Noah gave a shrug. "I really don't know for sure,” he repeated. “You have to ask the others. We heard first Sergeant Lamson took the command, relieving Dawn of her duties, before Gorman shot him in the head. Shot Dawn then, too. Officer Shepherd and your friends might've not found a way to escape because they were looking for them. We heard it. Joan wanted to look around, wanted to find Officer Shepherd—"

"Why?" Michonne asked this time, cutting in.

"Officer Shepherd—she was always good to us," the boy replied slowly. "She was also…friends with Joan, I think. Joan…Joan knew she couldn't stay at Grady if both Officer Shepherd and Lamson were dead." The boy paused. "She—she—" His words stopped and he bowed his head, unable to complete it.

They all understood. "It's okay—" Rick said. "Whatever happened, happened. You're with us now."

After that, they fell into a silence.

At the end of the first hour, Rick sent the former ward with Daryl to find him a place to rest. Carl came back from Beth's side, and three of them, Michonne, Carl, and he waited at the table. At the end of the second hour, Michonne left to make a perimeter check. They were down in numbers, with people still healing, with people still fighting for their lives, and with people they had already lost.

Rick thought of Tyreese. What had exactly happened to him, he still didn’t know, as no one still had briefed him openly but a part of him also knew, knew that the big-muscled man had sacrificed himself for them. The same way Amanda possibly had gotten shot, as well.

Rick was sad—and tired of losing people, good people, but deep inside, a part of him was also relieved, he couldn't help himself. It was sick, but it was there—relief that it was Tyreese—it was him, but _not_ Amanda.

That she was still fighting behind this door next to him in a make-shift prison canteen turned to an infirmary, fighting for her life with everything she had.

Joan came out at the third hour when he was sitting with Carl alone, Judith in his arms. The woman stood tiredly in front of them, all of her clothes covered with blood.

The nurse gave a look first at Judith and Carl, then her eyes found his. Despite a three-hour long surgery, she still looked collected. "We stabilized her," she announced firmly a second later. "They're patching her up so we could move her again. We have to look for a place to settle her. I'm gonna set it up so we can move her to rest comfortably."

Nodding, Rick listened to the words, the relief in his chest growing, as breathing become so much easier. His eyes darted around as he thought of the woman’s request. A place to settle her. Where she could rest peacefully. "She used to stay in D Block,” Rick muttered, bowing his head, then paused, his spine straightening. He raised his head. “But we'll put her here,” he informed, his voice clear.

C Block.

Where Rick slept with his family.

The nurses nodded. "We have to find other donors too," she continued. "She's stable now, but we might need blood again. We have to be prepared."

Rick jerked his head affirmatively. "I'll ask around. What type do you need?"

"B or O, either one, but B positive is best."

Rick nodded again. "When will she wake up fully?"

The nurse shook her head. "I don't know. She’s not in a full coma, and she is breathing on her own, but it might take a while.” She confirmed what Rick had already thought. “But she's still too weak,” she continued. “Possibly got infections from the dead bodies, too. It might take a while—" she repeated, "but she's already started fighting."

Rick gave a ghost smile at that. "Can I see her?" he asked. He wanted to see her. He wanted to—

"You may, but we need to move her ASAP,” Joan said, “So I need to—"

Cutting her off, Rick gave Judith to Carl. "Carl, show her Carol's cell—" he instructed his son before he turned back to the nurse. "Carol isn’t with us anymore. We’ll prepare her cell for Amanda."

The woman nodded briskly. They started walking away, Carl leading the dark curly haired nurse toward Carol's old cell—where he was sleeping two cells away with Judith, Carl between them. It was just a coincidence he told himself, entering the infirmary again.

Hershel gave him a look as he walked in and a nod of acknowledgement as they tried to clean up the mess all around. Still red, everything was still red, but the scene wasn't frightening anymore. Rick stood in front of the gurney and looked down.

She was still so pale, pale and red, but Rick could sense life in her. Her abdomen was completely covered with clean bandages, her white sports bra soaked red tightened over her breasts, small, round firm bumps, her nipples standing out under the wet cloth with cold, he just realized, her skin caked with dried blood.

Rick looked around to cover her with something, remembering Joan yelling about keeping her warm. It just…irked him, not because of Hershel, of course, nor the medic for that matter. He just wanted to give her some privacy.

Turning aside, he saw Maggie, too, still sitting in the chair. Bob went to her and started unhooking her IV. She was pale, too, from donating blood after so much stress. The medic started moving her out of the room as the older Greene stumbled on her feet.

Rick ghosted a smile at Hershel after that, turning back. "You Greenes have saved a life today in many ways," he told the old man.

"Yes, we did," Hershel said in return, putting down a blood-soaked bandage on the metal slab, and sighed out. "This—this was hard, son. I'm half mad, half sad—and completely glad that it's over now."

Rick knew what the older man meant. "I know—" he said, "I'm—too…" He paused for a second, lifting his eyes up at the veterinarian. "Can you—can you talk to Sasha? I think it'd better if she hears it from you."

The oldest Greene let out another sigh, and his eyes lowered down. "I guess—I guess she's one of us now?" he asked.

Rick made a low sound, looking back at her. "She is," he confirmed, the words leaving him with ease. "She's got Greene blood in her veins now."

At that, Hershel let out a low laugh. "I thought nothing in this world would've surprised me anymore," the old man muttered before he left Rick alone with Amanda.

Alone in the room with her, Rick braced his hands at the edge of the gurney, and bowed his head, closing his eyes. Opening them again, he tried to find something to tell her…but as he stared at her, all words failed him. He just—he just didn't know.

So, Rick just did the first thing that came to him. He leaned down and kissed her at the crown of her head gently, whispering a simple… _thank you…_

Though for what, he wasn't sure.

While he opened the door on his way out, his eyes caught the glint of his ring on his hand. Rick moved his gaze away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A'right, welcome to the class, how to have conflicted feelings about *having* feelings for someone in Rick Grimes' style, he he :)  
> This chapter was such a fun--aside getting almost a faint, but I really enjoyed dwelling with Rick's inner conflict, I mean all through this chapter he goes from one to another constantly, I hope I managed to convey them all; his fear--his panic--*don't die on me*, then *I watch them die*, his regret not tell her she is beautiful--wanting her at C Block, Greene blood in her veins, oh my god, he even had a bit of jealousy strike seeing her nipples alert in front of Bob and *Hershel* lol :) And of course, the end--the wedding ring.  
> I think "I watch them die" part was one of the saddest things I've ever written. And so Rick Grimes, too, before he turned--"oh shut up" at Season 5 :)  
> It was really fun for me to write. Hope you enjoyed reading as much I did writing it!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is gonna be a slow one, to set down the tone of the second part of the story as we're moving away from Grady parts.  
> Hope you're still with me reading :)

**XVI.**

Cold—she felt so cold.

And heavy.

Like she weighed tons, like a block of cold marble, as if her every limb was made of granite.

She had turned to stone.

There was no sense in her. She was in a void, yet she was aware—vaguely aware she was standing at the edge of a steep brink—beneath her there was a chasm…and…she was falling.

Just falling…

Through the void—cold and senseless—heavy—

Then she heard it—echoing in…her? She didn’t know… It…felt like it was coming out of her… calling out to her—

_Wake up now!_

She didn’t know the voice, but there was a familiar tingle in it, calm but firm… It reminded her… she…she had to go back… a warmness, a light of something flashed over her and she reached out… She couldn’t move, but still she reached out—she wanted to touch it—she wanted to…feel it.

_Wake up now!_

Calm but firm, serene, calling out to her… but it wasn’t coming out of her…it was coming out of the light, vibrating… it _was_ the light…pulsing…warm…alive…

And it was calling her…

And Amanda heard it.

# # #

Her limbs still heavy like cold marble, she was moving…rocking gently…still in the air.

Why did she always feel like she was hanging in emptiness?

Was it always how she felt—hanging in emptiness…? Empty… How was Dawn used to call their like? Hard shells, but soft hearts…and empty inside…

She tried to open her eyes and see—but like everything else of her, her eyelids were heavy like stone. She knew she should’ve been in pain—in agony, but she could hardly feel anything.

Drugged. She was drugged out of her mind, she realized with the last piece of sense still left to her, but for what, she couldn’t remember exactly.

She was still moving, rocking back and forth…suspended in the air within…something.

Arms…

Someone was carrying her, she then realized as if a fog was clearing off her mind slowly. Something had happened—something had happened to _her_ , she knew. She started feeling panic, cutting through all the drugged haze of the cobwebs in her mind—a sheer panic…

They—they were going to hurt her… She… she had to run… as fast as she could—protect herself… she was a fast runner; she’d learned how to make quick escapes. She tried to move…move her limbs, but her body wasn’t listening to her will.

_Run!_

The whole command was echoing within her with the dreadful panic as she forced herself at least to open her eyes and saw what was happening…

Her eyelids fluttered with difficulty, and light assaulted at her—so much light, so blazing… She groaned—trying to move her head…

Heavy—everything was so heavy…

And someone was still carrying her in his arms…

A man—she just knew it. She _felt_ it.

The muscles underneath her body as he held her close to his chest—the smell—the manly odor of testosterone, and sweat, and something else, too—something copper and metallic—blood…

A man was carrying her…

And if Amanda wasn't drugged so heavily, she would’ve screamed out, losing her shit.

She tried to make another move—she knew she couldn’t win—but she wasn’t a quitter. She wasn’t going to go without a fight first.

_I don’t get into fights I know I can’t win._

But sometimes you just didn’t have a choice. No chance, no choice.

She tried to hold one of the arms holding her, and tried to twist it so the man could drop her down—and started clawing at his forearm with her nails with all the force she could muster up… but he just scooped her up closer at his chest and whispered to her ear. “Amanda, it’s me—” he told her, the familiar tingle, the serene firmness that vibrated in her insides, and she felt…warmer…lighter like she was in her dream…

“It’s okay—” it told her. “You’re safe now…”

With the little force left to her, she lifted her eyes up, and looked at him… and his head bowing, he looked at her back—the clear blue eyes she knew so damn well— “Rick?” she whispered out barely, still looking at him…

He didn’t say anything, but only looked at her, and all of a sudden, her body relaxed, still heavy but limp. She was safe. She felt it. She—they—they were back. She could see the cells now, people staring at them as he carried her to one of the cells and went inside.

He put her down on the bottom bunk, and as he leaned down, Amanda saw others behind him… the medic…Beth’s father—Joan…

Joan!

Then it all hit her at once!

Behind her eyes, Lamson’s head blew off mid-sentence… Tyreese taking the bullet that had been meant for her…her wound…

She lowered her head and looked at her stomach—bandaged—she was still covered with blood, but the bandage was white…with tiny spots of red starting ruining it. She whimpered out loud…tears welling in her eyes.

Joan held her and started giving her an IV, hanging the bag up over the top bunk’s beam— “We—we made it out?”

“You need to rest—” the beautiful woman—the beautiful, smart woman Amanda had served to a jackal with her own hands- said. “You lost so much blood.”

Rest…? No.

She was going to kill that son of a bitch—

Even if it was going to be the last thing she did, she was going to do it.

She laid her head back, closing her eyes, she swore on it.

# # #

It took her a full week before she managed to leave the bed without any help and stood on her feet without falling on the ground on her face.

There was always someone with her, always, fussing over her, so much that she’d started getting cabin fever, a few inches away from shouting at them to leave her the fuck alone.

Each time Amanda held the scream at the tip of her tongue, knowing that they did it because they cared, cared about _her_ , but it was fucking disturbing, and she didn’t know what to do with it, and she—she just wanted to be alone and think.

God, she was such a bitch!

Beth gave her a look as Amanda turned her head with a sigh. “Beth—please, I’m fine. I don’t want to eat—” she repeated to the teenage girl again, but as Amanda was beginning to learn, when she put her mind to something, the younger Greene was a force of nature impossible to stop.

And she’d made it her job to nurse Amanda back to health.

“Nonsense—” Beth retorted. “You heard Joan yesterday. You need more fluids. You don’t eat enough.”

Amanda let out another huff. She’d never been much of an eater, but this—this was…getting ridiculous. She’d _already_ eaten this morning. But Joan had said she wasn’t getting enough fluids after her morning check, and here Beth Greene was, at noon, holding a bowl of a soup of…something in her hands.

“This is going to be finished, officer,” the girl told her firmly. “I made it myself.”

With a sigh, Amanda straightened back against the headrest on the bottom bunk and sat down. She really hated bunks. It made her claustrophobic but going up at the top would create problems for Joan and Beth who checked on her almost—every single second of the day.

She wished she could sleep on a perch like the hunter guy did, but living in the open like that, no way in hell. Even inside the cells, the bottom bunk was better than that. Frankly, she had no idea how Daryl managed it.

After living her childhood in the crowds of the foster homes, and spending more than a decade around cops, usually male officers, sharing locker rooms because the new Police Commissioner before the turn decided to have the gender equality among the law enforcements officers in the worst way possible and had them get ready in mixed locker rooms, Amanda had gotten a lot better with sharing the space with others, but this—this was really getting ridiculous.

God, she even missed her hospital bed, and that was saying something, she guessed.

But soup—she gazed down at it—no one had made her soup before when she got sick.

She usually sat down, took a few pills, and waited until it passed. No such thing now.

Now, she had people fussing over her, checking on her, and Beth Greene making her soup. Amanda felt like she’d gotten shot and woken up in another world.

But Beth had made her soup, and she would’ve been such a bitch if she didn’t drink it now.

She took the tray from her and settled it across her lap, murmuring, “Thank you.”

Beth nodded, giving her another look. “It’s gonna be finished—” she warned her.

Amanda let out a faint laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”

Beth beamed at her happily. Amanda shook her head. She took a sip from the soup and hummed contentedly as the texture of the green liquid hit on her tongue. “This’s good,” she complimented the girl. “Very good. What’s it?” she asked, trying the savory taste over her tongue. “Lentils?”

“You know—everything. Whatever I can find around,” Beth said with a shrug. “Rick’s veggies started coming around. But I think it’s mostly a weird type of green peas.”

Amanda shook her head. “No. Peas are sweet. This's sourish.” She lifted her head and let out a snicker. “So fresh from the field, heh?”

“Yeah—” Beth said. “He picked them this morning, gave them to me. I guess he heard what Joan said,” she added after a thought, giving her a look. Amanda bowed her head back to the bowl.

She passed the spoon through the liquid, just to make something, finding the chunks of seeds. Without a blender, their soups now were always having seeds and other stuff in it, but Amanda liked it. Liked it very much, indeed.

And Rick—well, she decided to put it away. He was like that. It didn’t mean anything.

Things—well, things were a bit…weird between them.

The last time they’d seen each other properly they’d kissed, and the next time, she’d woken up drugged and barely alive in his arms before she lost consciousness again. After that, during the week he was—um, he was kind and gentle, and well, distant.

She figured it felt as weird for him as it did for her, so Amanda let it go—in fact, she preferred it. She had no desire to have one of those talks. She even didn’t want to think about it—the kiss and other stuff.

She was perfectly _fine_ with pretending nothing had happened…because nothing had happened, right?

They had _just_ kissed. No big deal.

They thought they were never going to see each other and shared a goodbye kiss, nothing more. Just a kiss, once. It wasn’t like that they were soulmates or something.

No, his soulmate had been his wife, the woman he loved so dearly apparently even the end of the world hadn’t stopped him wanting her to carry his child the second time.

Such a romance, poetic _and_ stupid.

God, this was such a good soup Beth had cooked up.

Beth took the bowl from her when she was finished, and Amanda rested her head against the wall behind her. She looked at the top bunk, the feeling of being trapped and wanting to run away finding her again… though there was nowhere to run anymore.

Not in this world.

But on the better side, the prison had much more open area than Grady. She…she could do some jogging outside in the fields. Like she used to do before everything had gone to hell with their lives, waking up at dawn and run—run—run as the sun slowly rose in the sky.

Yeah, she would really love to do it—but…

She stopped herself.

No. She shouldn’t, shouldn’t think on such stuff—like—like this…this was home. She was here for a while until she got back on her feet, gathering her strength back. Then…then she was going to find that sonofabitch and make him choke on his ripped off dick.

She’d quite made up her mind on it.

She wasn’t going to sit down on her ass here and whine—not after everything the bastard had done.

In her dreams, she still saw Lamson’s head blow off in front of her eyes and Tyreese. Knowing that Gorman was still at Grady, doing whatever the hell he wished—

No. It wasn’t sitting well with Amanda.

She had to go back to Grady.

Of course, she hadn’t told anyone about it yet, afraid that they might’ve tried to do—cuff her to the bed or something.

Nope.

She could make her quick getaway when she was healed fully.

Until then—well, she was going to have to play along.

She felt bad, leaving Beth…even Maggie, after everything they’d done for her. She hoped they would understand. And Rick…well, he would possibly feel…relieved. She really wished she could live with them without any care, but she just couldn’t. Not anymore.

Somewhere along the way, perhaps she’d lost her ability to move on, one of her best skills always. She never dwelled on stuff much, she moved on— _life is a struggle, move on._

She’d seen Sasha two days ago for the first time as she took a walk out in the fields. They shared a look from distance, only a look. The woman hadn’t said anything. There were no accusations, no yelling, not even tears, and Amanda wished there had been.

She wished the woman had screamed at her that it was all her fault, that she’d caused all of it, that she was supposed to protect them. That she’d promised to keep them safe, not the other way around. But the woman hadn’t done any of those things. Sasha just looked at her, then walked away.

Then Amanda knew it. She was going to kill Gorman, no matter what.

She didn’t know how yet, but she was going to find out.

In the end, she always did.

Suddenly disturbed by her heavy thoughts, she turned to Beth. There was still time for that. “Let’s go out—” she told the girl. “I want to take in some fresh air.”

She slowly rose from the bed, careful not to hurt herself and took the dark green top Maggie had given her. Her own white tee from her uniform had turned into a torn heap of bloodied cloth. Her pants were bloodied too much, and she had to take care of it. It was still waiting for laundry as she couldn’t do it right now.

Noah had suggested he could do it, but Amanda hadn’t let the boy. No more people washing her shit for her. No. That’d been Grady. Noah wasn’t going to do it now, unless he wanted it.

Despite everything, she felt glad Noah and Joan were with them now, had left Grady. She at least had taken them out— She stopped the thought.

She’d taken _no one_ from anywhere.

If it wasn’t for them, they all could’ve been dead.

Her good plan.

_I believe it._

So…so stupid.

She belted her holster again against her upper right hip, clad in the dark jeans she’d borrowed from Beth. The Greene sisters had a thing for the tightest jeans ever known to mankind she remembered, recalling the way she tried to fit herself in the tight denim the first time, her wound aching.

It even felt…weird wearing something this thick and tight after the combat pants and her usual light yoga pants for workout, almost not herself. The loosely fitting dark green top also had a deep neckline, something she wouldn’t prefer again under normal circumstances. Holding a sigh back, Amanda untied her untidy bun where she’d messed it up by laying down. She made it into a tight bun at the back of her head and felt a bit much better.

She took the Glock 19, tucked it into her holster, and felt much, much _better_.

Ready, she nodded at the younger girl. “Let’s go.”

Beth nodded in return, but hesitated a second later. “I left Judith with Daryl to make your soup. Let’s take her, so she could get a bit of air, too.”

Amanda gave a little jerk of her head. The baby wasn’t crying a lot since she’d been here. She actually started liking the angelic little one with her sunshine hair and hazel green eyes. She was cute—as long as she didn’t cry.

From her cell—the two down from Amanda's, Carl between, some nights she could hear the baby girl cry in the middle of the night, then hear Rick softly hum to the baby to put her back to sleep. Amanda lay down on the bed, staring at the top bunk, imagining Rick soothing the baby in his arms to hush her two cells away.

Some nights she even came _that_ close to leaving the bed and trying to help him to calm the baby. She just—was good with babies that way, had a lot of practice growing up. Babies were always around. Usually they—the big kids—were supposed to take care of them. All in frankness, Amanda had never been fond of it, but nevertheless she’d picked up a lot of stuff.

But each night Amanda just lay in the bed and let Rick deal with his baby.

As they walked toward Daryl’s upper perch, Amanda asked, mostly to start a conversation to pull her mind away from those thoughts. “You leave her with Daryl much?” she asked, a bit surprised that the rough tracker was going along with it.

“Oh yes, Daryl’s great with babies,” Beth shared, nodding in mirth. “He calls her lil’ asskicker.” She laughed again. “Makes her laugh all the time. I swear Judy never cries that much when he’s with him.”

Amanda smiled in silence as Beth continued, “And thank god!” the girl exclaimed. “After Carol—um left, it’s getting harder to find people to look after her. Michonne isn’t good with babies. Maggie is always busy—”

Amanda cut her off. “But there are a lot of people here—”

Beth shook her head. “Rick doesn’t want her hanging out with people in D alone. He wants her with us.”

Then suddenly it hit Amanda—hit her hard.

_People in D._

Not us.

They’d settled Noah and Joan in D Block, how she’d been settled the first time she had been here. Now Amanda was sleeping in C, occupying Carol’s old cell, just one away from Rick, and she had no idea how that had happened.

Something in her stomach coiled, and her heart started beating faster. She held the railings of the metal staircase that they were climbing.

Beth was at her side at the next second, holding her, and giving her a worried look. “Hey—ya okay?” she asked.

Amanda nodded. “Yeah. Just felt a bit faint.”

Yeah… just because of blood loss, she told herself. Meant nothing else.

“Do you want to return to bed?” the girl asked, worried eyes still on her.

Amanda shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Let’s take the baby—” she said, pulling herself up. “C’mon—” and urged her forward.

Nope. She just felt faint a bit, that was all. Blood loss. Nothing more.

# # #

Without her uniform, Amanda Shepherd almost looked like a different woman.

Maggie and Beth’s borrowed clothes wrapped her like a second skin. Her slender, lean legs and round, firm bottom were much more visible within skinny jeans, and her pale arms clad in a sleeveless shirt showing off toned biceps.

She wasn’t as muscled as Michonne. She was much sleeker and lithe, but still Rick knew she was strong. He could still remember the way she fought both with him and Daryl to break their grip on her, the way she threw him over her shoulder when he caught her in the woods and drove both of them to the ground or flipped herself back into a crouch. Her movements were mechanical but precise with a practiced ease, agile and graceful.

Yet she was soft too, he _also_ remembered…the way she nimbly fitted herself against his chest, smooth and mellow… her lips…ripe…full… as Rick nibbled her bottom lip—

His brows furrowing, he stopped the memory and bowed his head to look at his plants as they walked in the field.

Her arm was looped around Beth’s as Beth carried Judith and they strolled in the prison’s field _leisurely_ … If there weren’t walkers outside the fences, snarling and growling, Rick would’ve even smiled at them as if they were walking in the park.

Still, he liked it.

This was how he wanted to see his family. The people he cared about.

He had no idea where he stood with Amanda right now, but he liked seeing her like this, having a stroll with Beth, having a bit of down time.

His eyes darted toward them, and he nodded inwardly. Yes, he very much liked seeing them like that.

The rest, he didn’t know. It just—he didn’t know.

So, he was keeping his distance, until at least he got his shit together.

Too many things had happened without a chance to get a breath, and he—he needed time.

_There’s no time._

The words popped into his mind, but he pushed them away. Was he running away again?

The answer was in his mind, too, and Rick didn’t like it, either. He—he needed time—time to figure out—and he…he needed to do his… _things_. Be a good father and a good leader, keep his people safe, secure, and fed.

His priorities hadn’t changed, but so many things had happened in so little time.

She’d dropped into the middle of his life, stealing and running, screaming and yelling, then trying to save them, then just the night he’d thought he would never see her again he’d found her back in the morning, about to die. He _had_ watched her die and come back…

 _He_ —he had brought her back.

He needed time.

Though for what, exactly, he wasn’t still sure. He didn’t know. Whatever this thing between them was, it had passed basic attraction now. Rick wasn’t an idiot. But anything else…

No. He still loved Lori. He—did…loved her still.

Only seven months had passed since Judith was born. So, was he going to move on now? And move on where?

For what?

What was left to move on to?

The questions were loud and fussy in his mind, so he pushed them away, too. He…he needed to do his stuff. There was no time for this. They were just living in the interim before another thing happened—another disaster found them—

Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw them approaching him.

Despite the whole difference in her attire, there was one thing in common in Amanda’s old appearance: the tight bun she’d twisted at the back of her head, her hair slickly smoothed back. Rick knew what that meant.

Stubborn mule.

He wondered when she was going to change back into her old uniform, finding a basic white tee shirt somewhere.

When they stopped at the wooden fences for his field, he turned to them. Carl came from the other side when he saw Judy and Beth. Rick took his baby girl from Beth as Amanda leaned on the fences in silence.

“Rick!” Beth exclaimed. “What were those veggies you gave me this morning?” the girl asked. “We were trying to guess with Amanda. I say green peas, but she says lentil.”

Amanda let out a sigh. “Green peas are sweeter, Beth,” Amanda supplied. “I told you. Lentils got really sourish when they're cooked.”

Almost surprised that she knew the difference, he gave Amanda a look. “You know how to cook?” The words left his mouth with bafflement before he could stop himself… and he wanted to kick himself.

She raised her head at him and looked at him back. Her eyes were flashing. “Why, Rick—” she bit off wry, her quills were all drawn out. “You sound quite _surprised_. It doesn’t take a genius to cook something to feed yourself. I’m not an idiot.”

“I—I didn’t mean that.”

She scoffed. “ _What_ did you mean?”

He made a sound, hoisting Judith higher in his arms. “It’s just—you—you don’t look like—” He stopped the rest of the words before he made things even worse, but the damage was already done.

Her expression turning even sourer, she gave him another nasty look. “Don’t I look like—what?” she asked lowly.

“You know—”

She shook her head. “No, I _don’t_.”

Beth tried to get between them, but she stopped the girl, raising up her hand. “No, Beth. I want to hear what Rick thinks I don’t look like.” She turned to him and arched an eyebrow in waiting, “Yes?”

Getting cross with it, not letting the shit go, stubborn as ever, Rick snapped, giving her a look back. “Well, Amanda, you don’t look like _the_ _type_.”

She barked out a laugh. “Quite prejudiced, opinionated, not to mention biased, but also _right_ —” She laughed again. “I mean why bother all that trouble for one person? Easier just to grab some takeaway and put it in the microwave.” She pursed her lips. “So, yeah, Rick, I guess I’m _not_ the type.”

She then turned on her heel and started walking away.

Beth gave him a look, clearly telling what she thought of him at the moment. Turning, the teenager followed her.

Staring after them, Judith still in his arms, Rick barely kept himself from kicking something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, like I said a slow one, nothing really happens, aside Amanda starts getting obsessed with Gorman, and Rick and she starts bickering again, he he, pulling from each other. 
> 
> If any of you read Adaptation, too, you might know how these two bicker continuously and even though they're in the different set of times, they're still the same people, so their relationship always have to have that part too. It's much less antagonistic of course than Adaptation as Rick isn't here as jaded as Season 5, and Amanda is less scared of him, but this is really fun for me to write them like this, Rick is being surprised that she knows how to cook, Amanda getting cross with implications because she's not "the type".


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll today, finished up another chapter :)  
> Enjoy.

**XVII.**

Even at the end of the world, Amanda Shepherd was a creature of habits.

The first morning after the unfortunate talk of _types_ that happened a week ago, she showed up at dawn on the prison's wide lawn between the fences as Rick came out to his field. She was in short black sports shorts she'd found somewhere, a loose sleeveless white shirt over them, long slender legs _bare_ , her feet _bare_ , and she started lightly jogging.

She never tossed even a glance in his direction, just kept circling the green field with her bare feet, and if the scene wasn't so bizarre Rick would've laughed at it. But he wasn't laughing; he was staring—afraid that she finally lost it after her ordeal at the hospital.

Yet they didn't talk, and Rick turned to his own stuff, digging dirt and shit, his earphones in his ears. Amanda kept running for a full hour, then she crept back inside the gate silently before anyone came out.

That day passed like that—she spent it in the Greenes company, with Noah and Joan like she usually did, away from him. Rick thought perhaps she just wanted to blow off…some steam.

Then the next morning at the dawn, it happened again.

She appeared in the same way and started running—her pace faster this time, as if she were regaining her strength. Rick realized then she was trying to get back into shape. The day passed like the first again. The third morning Rick came out, his Walkman's earphones in his ear, his eyes darting looks at the entrance until a few minutes later, she showed up. This time he gave her a half nod in acknowledgement, and she did the same, yet they still didn't talk.

Rick returned to his crops, and Amanda continued running, then at the end of the session, she started doing some basic stretching moves, then ended them twirling herself within a side flip, and ending up sat on the grass in a split. Her legs were completely opened at both sides as she leaned forward flat on her stomach. Rick stared this time for different reasons.

God, he knew she was agile, quite flexible, but he had no idea. _No_ idea.

They never spent a minute alone with each other during the rest of the day again, keeping their distances. Rick had a lot of…stuff to attend, and she…she was healing.

That night, though, when she was with Beth and Maggie, Rick dropped the Walkman on her bed. The next morning, she came out with it, the earphones in her ears, the player secured at her hip. She tried to do an elbow stand at the end of her workout routine, but fell down on her ass, rolling herself over the ground each time she tried—and out of the corner of his eye watching her as he dug and tended his veggies, Rick smiled.

As she sprawled over the grass a few yards away from him, Rick almost went to her, almost.

The next day, she managed to hold the elbow stand for three seconds, bare legs up in the air, before she fell on her side again, but this time as she lay sprawled on the ground, she started laughing. Rick heard the merry sound even where he stood in his field and started laughing silently between his veggies, shaking his head.

The next morning Rick went to find her before she started her routine after the run. "Hey there—" he called out to her, walking over to stand in front of her.

She stopped in mid action as she bent down to touch the ground with her palms and straightened back up. "Hey there—" she greeted him .

They looked at each other for a second or two, not talking, then she asked, "How's it goin'?"

He shrugged. "Good. We're gonna have some potatoes too, I guess, in the next month."

She nodded. "Great. Not good carbs, but whatever."

With a small smile, he nodded, too. "You?" he then asked.

She shrugged the same way he did. "Good—" she said, waving an idle hand around. "Managed to stand up three seconds on my elbows yesterday."

He smiled again. "I _saw_ —" he said, and she gave him a look. "You do it a lot?" he questioned further.

She shrugged again. "Hmm mm. Used to do it every morning before the turn," she muttered as she started doing some stretching again, pulling one arm with the other. "Run around the city until to the park, then do some workouts."

"A good way to start a day."

"Hmm mm—" she hummed softly, rolling her shoulders. "I missed it, you know. We were running on the treadmill at Grady but it wasn't the same," she said, her eyes turning away to look ahead.

Rick nodded in silence, understanding what she meant, then their eyes caught each other again. As if to break sudden silence between them, she waved at him. "C'mon, since you're here, make yourself useful," she told him. He arched an eyebrow at her. "I was going to try a handstand today. Help me with it."

"Amanda, you need to take it slow,” Rick said with a sigh. “You were bleeding to death two weeks ago."

"I _am_ taking it slow—" she retorted. "See—I'm trying it with you. You can get me inside if I break my stitches or something."

Rick gave her another look. "Do Hershel or Joan know about this—morning exercise, Amanda?"

She shrugged.

"Amanda—"

She cut him off. "Are you gonna help or what?"

"Fine—" he bit off. "If you start bleeding again, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah—" she brushed him off, bending down, and placed her palms on the ground. Her legs were in a straight triangle, with her hips sticking out. Suddenly Rick felt like it was an unbelievably bad idea.

He felt stirring in his pants as she tried to get into position and lifted her head to look at him, still bent down. "Okay—I'm gon' leap up. You hold up my ankles until I can stand on my own, kay?"

In silence, he nodded, knowing he shouldn't have come in the first place. Just like she'd informed him, she leaped, balancing her knees at her elbows to support herself for a second, then pushed her legs into the air. Her arms trembling with effort, she started shaking—and groaned loudly—

Rick grabbed her ankles and lifted the weight off her. She breathed out laboriously, her body still trembling. Rick angled his head down to look at her. "You 'kay?"

"Yeah, hold it—" she rasped out with a loud breath.

"Amanda—I don't think—" he started, but she cut him off.

"Shut up and hold!"

So, he shut up and held.

She stayed in the position for five or so seconds, still breathing deeply, her face cramped with fatigue, her legs and abdomen trembling—painfully—her loose tee shirt over her waist line where she’d made it into a knot so it wouldn't pool over her head—and she was all on display for his eyes, her shorts sliding dangerously up her thighs…

He closed his eyes for a second, at a loss how they’d ended up like this. They weren't even talking to each other more than a few quick words for two weeks, now he was holding her ankles as she was trying a handstand.

And she said she _hated_ surprises.

She let out another loud, groaning a breath, and her body started shaking violently—and she started losing her balance—

"Let go!" she almost screamed, and Rick pulled back before she fell on him.

She twirled her legs and tucked herself before rolling over the ground and lay down on the ground. She turned on her side, pulling her legs up to her stomach, and then started laughing.

"God—!" she laughed again. "I forgot how hard these things can be."

"Yeah—" he told her as she straightened and sat cross-legged. "I imagine."

She lifted her eyes up at him. "Wanna try?" she asked him. "I used to hold up Lamson a lot. I'm a great handler."

"No—" He shook his head as she started standing up. "I think I'll pass. I like my head where it is."

She gave him a look. "It's good practice, Rick. You know—Atlanta's finest gotta be in good shape." She paused, and rolled her shoulders, making a face. "Well, no handstands for me for a while, though."

"Glad to hear."

She chuckled lowly, remaking her messy bun again. When it was done, they’d already fallen into silence. She bowed her head, looking at her bare feet—

"Amanda—" Rick finally said. "I—for what happened at the field—" She snapped her head up and looked at him. "Um—with peas and lentils…" She titled her head aside as he struggled with words. "I'm sorry—" he said it out without further silliness.

She frowned, her eyes still on his. "It was a week ago, Rick— _a week_ ," she pointed out in clipped tones. "Are you _always_ this late?"

He shrugged. "Better late than never…" he mumbled out.

She snorted. She sat down to put her socks back on her feet and tuck her feet back to her boots. She then raised her head to look at him. "Well—" she rolled out the word in her mouth, pulling the ties of her boots before she announced, "You're missing something.”

As he looked at her, she stared back at him openly, finishing up tying her boots. She stood up silently the next second, her gaze still on his.

Understanding what she was demanding, Rick let out another sigh, but bent down to look for some flowers. Finding a tiny, little blossoming daisy in the grass, he picked it. He drew back and extended it to her. "I'm sorry.”

This time nodding, she took the flower from him with a small smile. "Okay. I forgive you."

Laughing softly, Rick just shook his head at her.

# # #

As they started walking away from the field, Amanda felt much better, really much better. She didn't know why exactly, but this whole silent dance they did for the last week had already tired her.

She guessed Rick hated talking about shit almost as much as she did, so she guessed it wasn't a bad thing, either. They’d covered up another thing without any real conversation, except a simple sorry, and she'd gotten herself another flower.

Her flower had been so cramped and bloodied when she had been shot, Amanda had felt like shit, but now she had another. Overall, it ended well.

And it did, right?

Well, they hadn't still talked about the fact that they’d kissed, but then again maybe there really wasn’t anything to talk about. It was better that way.

They were both cops, not some high school sweethearts.

She wondered if his wife was his high school sweetheart. Somehow Rick Grimes had that vibe, the nice boy of the town, marrying his high school sweetheart, being a law enforcement officer, a family man cop with his country music and all… Quite the _type_ , definitely.

It didn't matter, she told herself next.

Soon she was going to be ready to leave.

 _Find Gorman and make him regret_ _his life choices_ _._

No. Amanda hadn't just passed the whole week running, doing a few workouts, and sitting on her ass. No. she’d readied herself, prepared a plan.

Running, push-ups, pull-ups, and handstands were all necessary to regain her strength, but Amanda knew she needed more than that.

 _Don't get into fights you can't win…_ Though sometimes one really didn't have any choice.

She just needed a good plan. She'd found it—a couple of days ago, while staring at the top bunk when she was laying down, listening to hushed voices Rick made to calm his baby girl back to sleep, Amanda had come up with a plan.

She needed to lure Gorman out of there.

Grady was his turf now. If she somehow managed to get him out with a few of his pals, she would even the odds. She would grab a quality rifle from here before she left for the city, then she would have the better advantage, guns and location, all in her favor.

The only thing that remained now was to find a spot to set up her trap and a good reason to lure them out.

She guessed soon she was going to come up with something for them too.

One step at a time.

She turned to Rick. "About the fences—" she started. This was on her mind as well, but things had been so weird between them, she couldn't have brought herself to speak to him—another reason why this…them like this was a bad, bad idea. ‘Don't shit where you eat’ had become a mantra just because of this. She frowned. She _hadn't_ been thinking on it.

She hadn't….

She didn't want _any_ relationship.

She didn't do relationships.

Amanda had never been even girlfriend material, and Rick Grimes obviously—she stopped her thoughts.

She didn't need to think on this.

It was…pointless. Served no purpose.

If she somehow managed to survive her ordeal with Gorman, she…she was going to need to live with these people, live with him, _work_ with him.

When she didn't speak further, Rick tossed her a glance. "I doubled the checks. And Maggie and Glenn don't take the same shifts anymore," he informed her, darting another side look at her.

With a small smile, Amanda nodded. "Good. But that wasn't what I meant. I've been thinking on it for a while," she told him. "Who could do such a thing? Why?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah… I've been on that as well—" he said. "I thought first someone had tried to sabotage us—" He paused for a second, his expression suddenly turning to stone, his eyes stern, his jaw setting.

Amanda squinted at his sudden change. "It happened once before. When we first came to the prison,” he explained. “One of the inmates who were here before escaped, then tried to get walkers inside, feeding them to lure them inside with pieces of dead animals."

She stared at him, her steps faltering a bit. "Really?"

He gave her another half nod. "Yeah…" She looked at him to continue, but he didn't say anything else on that topic. "But it happened quickly, and only once,” he said instead. “That thing—" He pointed at the fences, "Was going on for a while. Someone feeding walkers, but not to ambush us."

"I thought someone was losing it," she told him frankly then. "Perhaps someone saw a corpse of a loved one or someone who looked like it, then lost it." Her eyes found his again. "You—you said—a woman tried to feed you to her dead husband before we met, right?"

Understanding her point, Rick jerked his head. "It might be…" he slowly asserted, then shook his head. "But who…?" He paused for a second and muttered, "Everything is so…fucked up."

She shrugged. "It is what it is—"

Twisting his head, he gave her a look. "Yeah." He paused another second before asking, "I'm gonna make a tour around the fences. Wanna come?"

She returned his look. "Like a patrol?"

He gave her a faint smile. "Yeah."

In silence, she nodded.

Two cops on a patrol. She could do that. Always.

In silence, they went down, keeping the fences at their left. They saw Maggie up in the watch tower, waking up, and Glenn came out a second later, people coming to fence duty as well. The prison was waking up. Amanda liked it, the feel of it, watching it come alive as they kept walking around the perimeter. She also felt much lighter, like something—a weight lifting off her chest.

And, she felt…safer.

Two cops on a patrol. There was nothing wrong with that.

# # #

In her dream, a scene played in her mind, a scene she'd forgotten…

Rick was holding his baby girl close to his chest like the first time she'd seen them together in the prison. They were still standing under a barred window as he rocked the baby back and forth… then suddenly a beam of sunlight suddenly crept inside through the bars and fell on them as Rick bowed his head and gave a soft kiss on the baby's head…

Amanda woke up, her eyes widening as she jerked up into awareness.

She stared at the bottom of the top bunk, her heart madly beating in her chest—and it was so hard, so hard to breath—even harder than when she'd been shot in her stomach...

Then, she heard it again—Rick's slow hushing whispers as he tried to calm the baby girl.

Before she realized what was happening, tears filled her eyes, and in silence, she struggled not to let them fall.

# # #

Before he woke up fully, Rick smelled pancakes.

He let out a groan, twisting on his stomach on the bed, hiding his face beneath his pillow, understanding it was going to be one of those Sundays.

Lori stubbornly trying those godawful pancakes… Rick loved her for that, trying—never giving up because she wanted them to be one of those families who ate pancakes on Sunday mornings, but really how hard could be making some proper pancakes?

Sunlight creeping through the shades over the windows, Rick threw the pillows away and started pushing up from the bed. He couldn't run away from this.

He didn't want to run away from it.

He just wanted to eat good pancakes in the meantime as well.

He chuckled faintly at himself and went to the bathroom to refresh himself from sleeping. He washed his face, shaved as he hadn't shaved yesterday getting off-duty, brushed his teeth after he was done with morning call, then hopped into the shower.

Leaving the bathroom after a quick shower, he put on old faded gray sweatpants and a white tee shirt and left their bedroom. He dried his short curls with a towel as he walked to the kitchen, smells assaulting him. _Good_ smells. Hope rekindled in his chest. Perhaps today was the day.

When he finally got good pancakes for Sunday breakfast, his beautiful wife finally managing it…

Smiling as he kept drying his hair with the towel, he walked into the kitchen. Carl was already seated at the island, his head buried into his comic book. "Morning, son—" Rick murmured, clasping his boy on his shoulder.

His son lifted his eyes from the comic book only for a second as he repeated back with a half mouth, "Mornin', dad—"

Rick bent down to kiss Judy's hair as she sat beside her brother in her highchair, playing with her stuffed giraffe. Her back to them, Lori was still cooking her pancakes. She was clad in her usual loose fitting jeans and shirt, her hair falling over her shoulders down her back in loose waves—

Rick walked to her closer and wrapped his arms around her waist, cocooning her in his embrace. His beautiful wife…so tiny, so soft—so nimbly fitting against him as if she was made for him, especially for him…

Usually, she didn’t feel like this, so fitting… Lori was a tall woman, tall and bony, but she was fitting in his arms perfectly now… Rick bowed his head to kiss the side of her neck, his lips lingering… She made a sound with a giggle, her voice rich and clear, happy with her laugh. "Baby, kids…"

Rick stopped…his lips stopped, his body stopped, his head still at the crook of her neck, her scent in his nostrils…

Then he lifted his eyes up as she twisted her head aside, and Rick saw her full profile… " _Rick_ —" she whined, giving him a look, light green eyes gleaming with happiness…

Rick took a step back, looking at the woman who _wasn't_ his wife… "Amanda—?" he whispered.

She gave him a puzzled look, her brows furrowing a bit. "Baby?"

Rick took another step back as Amanda looked at him questionably—and Rick stared at her in return…

Then Rick woke up.

His eyes shot up, wide open in the dark, his heart racing against his rib cage, the dream—still so real in his mind as he stared at the bottom of the top bunk above him.

With a groan, he turned aside and sat on the bed's edge, his bare feet touching the cold floor. Everything was silent. Even Judy was asleep. If he listened carefully, he could even hear Carl’s soft snores from the cell beside him… and Amanda next to it…

Rick bent forward, supporting his elbows on his knees and held his head between his hands…

# # #

When the sun was up, Amanda didn't go out.

She didn't leave her cell either, not before she made sure one certain cowboy with a southern drawl left his cell. Beth had already taken the baby girl from him. Amanda had heard everything, the hushed little words they exchanged, the small talk they made about the baby girl as Amanda just waited inside.

She—she needed to go.

Just find Gorman and be done with it.

It was unlikely that she was going to live through that encounter. So, she didn't need to worry about this stuff. Even if she did, then she could go back to Grady and put things back together, like she _should've_ done in the first place.

She had no place here. This…. this wasn't her life.

Just like how Rick had put it; she wasn't the type.

She had to go and do what she knew the best.

This was ridiculous.

Dreaming about a man and his baby girl… a man who was still obviously mourning his dead wife.

And seriously, what would happen even if he didn't? Rick was a family man. Amanda was hardly a family person. She couldn't even do relationships, had never bothered herself with one…

She didn't even want one. They—they bored her to death. Always being in contact, doing stuff together, always being reachable, having responsibilities for someone else… God. She _hated_ that, hated anyone's responsibilities. She'd taken responsibility for Beth and looked how that had turned out?

Why would she ever want to do that to herself again?

No. She didn't want it.

And, she was being ridiculous, too, as if…as if there were _something_ to want—

There was nothing.

They—they'd just kissed _once_ …not that they'd ever talked about it.

She was just being stupid.

God, she wished she only had sex dreams about him or something.

That would've been easier. She—she could understand. Fuck him, yeah, she would've totally done it— _if_ things were different—but this…

God, she was really being stupid.

She stood up from the bed and started going to the bathroom to wash her face, to get her shit together at least. This was stupid, so stupid. Served no purpose at all.

When she was out of the cell, Beth caught her, the little baby girl in her arms as she paced through the corridor.

"Oh—" the younger Greene told her. "You—didn't leave for a run?"

Amanda shook her head. "No—I don't feel well today,” she sputtered out the lie. “I think I'm just gonna lay down—"

Then with a frown, Beth came at her quickly. "What?" she asked, rocking Judith in her arms. "Is it the gunshot or you feel ill? Perhaps you caught the infection—" She stopped and pushed her back into the cell with her free hand. "You go and wait there. I'm gonna get Joan."

With a sigh, Amanda went back, knowing she'd fallen into a trap with her own words. There was no way in the hell that Beth was going to leave it alone after that.

She went to the bed and sat at the bottom bunk. A second later, she rested herself against the headboard.

Well, if she was going to fake it, she might as well be doing it right.

Joan and Beth came a couple of minutes later, Beth still holding Judith. "I told you not to run like that, Amanda—" the nurse told her, fixing her an disapproving look. Amanda shrugged in answer.

"She still doesn't eat well," Beth supplied too, as Amanda let out a sigh.

Well, she had asked for this, she supposed.

They fussed over her for a while, Joan taking her temperature and all, and finally deemed that she needed to rest for a bit.

"Okay—" Beth said after that. "I'm gonna give Judith to Carl and will come back."

"Beth-" Amanda cried after her, but it was no use.

Rick liked working with his son in the mornings. Carl came out of the prison about the time Amanda turned back, so she really didn't want to come in between the father and son, but well, but it was too late for that as well.

Beth was already gone.

Then she was alone with Joan. "How's it going, Joan?" she asked the woman, turning to her. "Do you like it here?"

The nurse shrugged. "It's better than Grady, that's for sure—" she said. "Noah has started liking it, I think… He still says he needs to find his family, but I don't know. He seems happy."

Amanda shook her head. "You know it, Joan. Noah has been with us since the beginning, always telling himself someday he was going to leave. He even prepared an escape plan, but never did it. He just does it to feel better because he feels guilty."

Amanda wondered sometimes if she felt guilt like that, too, guilt for…surviving whereas all the bad things happened to all the other people. Either way, it was fucked up, so she tried not to dwell on it. "This place is good for him.” She wanted them to be safe, no matter what, both of them. "He should stay. His family—his father is probably dead long ago."

Joan nodded, too, and Amanda gave the woman a look, her eyes falling over her wrists. She was wearing a long-sleeve shirt. Joan always wore long sleeves now. Amanda knew the reason. She wondered if the bruises were still there, and the thought just made her mind firmer.

Gorman—Gorman had to die. One way or another.

"And you, Joan?" Amanda asked then. "Are you happy too?"

Joan gave off a shrug. "No one has tried to come to my bed, so…yeah, I'm happy, I guess."

"They don't do things like that here, Joan," Amanda said, somehow sounding quite certain, too… Rick would've never let it happen. He wasn't that kind of a man.

But Joan let out a bitter smile, shaking her head. "We didn't used to do things like that at Grady at first, Amanda," the woman replied darkly. "Things change."

Things change… that was one of the lessons Amanda had learned as well. Never take anything for granted. Things always change.

But still…some things still had to remain the same. "I know—" Amanda said. "I just don't believe Rick would change that much. It's—it's not his nature. Gorman—Gorman had a daughter, too, you know, before. He liked her a lot, used to take her with her soccer games, but I've never seen him—never seen him the way Rick holds his baby girl, even once."

The woman sighed deeply. "I—I hope you're right, Amanda." She paused, bowing her head. "You told me once men scare you more than rotters now," she told her, and Amanda nodded.

They did, but Amanda had learned _people_ in general were scarier. Carol had killed two innocent people to protect her own lot, Dawn had gone ballistic… If it was a competition, men probably would've still won, but women—women were coming close, too…

"I know," she confessed, but continued. "But either way, you're right. You can't depend on anyone to protect you anymore. You _have to_ protect yourself. I was talking with Lamson. We—we were going to train you—teach you how to fight. We were idiots, only making you mop the floors and wash our laundry. You have to learn how to fight." She paused for a second, and leaning forward, held the other woman's hand. "Ask Rick to teach you. Noah, too. He'll do it. He does it. He’s a good man, believe me."

She waited for an okay, but Joan just gave her a look. "Why—why don't you do it yourself?" the nurse asked, frowning. "We _don't_ need Rick to teach us how to fight," she stated. "We've got _you_."

Amanda shook her head, not seeing any reason to hide it now, not from Joan. She needed to know. Perhaps Joan was the one who had deserved to see that sonofabitch dead the most. Amanda had talked her into this, talked her into seducing the bastard, to keep him quelled, and when it all had backfired, she couldn't do anything, just watched it. Just like she always did.

No more.

No _fucking_ more.

"I won't be around long, Joan—" she told the woman finally. "So…"

Joan understood the words. "No!" she cried out, trying to keep her voice down as she leapt from the bedside up to her feet. "Amanda, no! Don't do it."

She shook her head. "I have to."

"No!" Joan insisted. "You don't!" She shook her head. "What're you going to do—go and kill him? You can't kill Gorman, Amanda. Stop it."

She gave the woman a cool look. "We'll see."

Just at that moment, Beth walked into the cell, too. Amanda straightened, swearing inside. "Beth!"

"You—y-you want to go back and kill Gorman?" Beth stammered the question. "You—we barely escaped Amanda! Why—" She pointed at her stomach. "This isn't enough for you? Why do you want to go back?"

Amanda stood up from the bed and tried to reach her, but Beth shook off her arm. "Beth—" Amanda said, but Beth cut her off again.

"No—" the girl told her, her voice getting determined. "You can't go anywhere. We _won't_ let you."

"Beth—" Amanda started, trying to reason with her, but Beth stopped her again.

"I'm gonna talk with Rick—"

" _NO!_ " Amanda screamed suddenly with panic, the word bellowing in the air, "Beth, NO!"

But it was too late, she was already gone again, running out of the cell.

Amanda dropped on the bed, and bowing her head, she held it between her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think, both Amanda and Rick are ready for a face-off, as I finally put them where I wanted, Amanda started having dreams of him and Judith (because seeing Rick with Judith such a cornerstone for her, her first real change always have to come for that) and Rick dreaming her in a Sunday breakfast with pancakes instead of Lori. That was something I've always wanted to do, as well, so glad to have it at least.
> 
> The next we'll have a Talk :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I was going to update last night, but this amazing lady SandiMarieKarr kept me from finishing the chapter with her amazing reviews last night :) I was never that much flattered as she reviewed each chapter in details. So, really thanks.  
> And people, if you're reading the story, please do comment. Hearing from you is really addictive!  
> This chapter is one of those *talk* chapters, hope you will like it.

**XVIII.**

That morning the prison’s lawn was empty. She didn’t come out at dawn like she had been doing since last week, and alone, Rick dealt with his crops and plants, trying to keep his mind dutifully where it belonged—on his job.

Though, the doubt was in him as he dug and cleaned the critters from the plants’ roots, _why_ clawing at the back of his mind—why was the lawn empty? Why didn’t she come out?

She couldn’t know it, could she? Couldn’t know what he’d dreamed last night. The notion, the notion of her knowing _how_ he’d dreamed about her last night disturbed him as much as the dream as itself, but the next second, leaning down over the veggies, Rick shook his head at himself. Of course not. How could she? It wasn’t like that he’d been talking in his sleep—

The thought stopped his hands, and he frowned.

God, he hadn’t been talking in the sleep, had he? Calling out her name?

No.

What he saw…No. It wasn’t that kind of a dream, in which he would call out her name in a fit of lust, dreaming of doing much more than that, specifically to her…A part of him _wished_ it were just that. Lusting after her, wanting her, wanting her writhing beneath him… It would’ve been so much easier than _this_. That he would’ve understood, accepted.

He was a man, and she was a woman, an attractive woman that he was attracted to. It would’ve been…normal.

This…this wasn’t normal, not even close.

In his mind, the dream was still so real; the smell of pancakes, kitchen, kids, her. It didn’t even feel like a dream, but more like a memory, as if…as if he recalled a forgotten memory, as if she’d really made them pancakes in some distant past, she— _his_ _wife_.

Had he really done this? Played her in his mind instead of Lori, his dead wife, his dead wife who died because Rick couldn’t save her in time. Now it felt like he was killing her memories, too, killing her another time, putting another woman in her place in his dreams, dreaming another woman in her stead—

And Amanda looked like Lori, too. In a way—sometimes…she reminded him of Lori. Only five-four or so, give or take an inch, Amanda wasn’t as tall as Lori, and Lori wasn’t as sleekly toned as Amanda, but still the resemblances were there, something Rick had never thought on before today.

Until he dreamed of her in Lori’s stead.

God. How much more fucked up he could get, he didn’t know.

His eyes darted around, looking at the empty field, trying to spot the familiar sight, and stopped when he understood what he was doing.

He almost growled, anger rising in him.

This—whatever it was, had to stop.

He couldn’t do it. He _shouldn’t_ do it.

He turned to the plants, worked on them until Carl came. Each time his eyes skipped up, to check around, to check the gate if someone was coming out, Rick turned them on meticulously on the job.

He just became too accustomed to seeing her in the field in the mornings, he told himself. She had a way to make her presence known; she was just that way. His dream—his dream might’ve been a byproduct of his urges and that talk of the types and cooking, and his over wired up brain cooked it up for him this time. Rick had dealt with _worse_.

He was just lusting after her. And his overactive brain had done the rest, nothing more.

His eyes moved around another time on their own account, and with a silent growl, Rick bowed his head and looked at the dirt beneath him. Before he could stop himself, the thought found him, and he _wondered_ how it really would be having her naked writhing under him, those lean legs wrapping around his waist tightly—

Rick stopped the thought, too, feeling his semi-hardness turning into a full one.

No. Apparently _that_ wasn’t a good idea, either.

He—he should just wait it out until it passed. Like how he did with anger, waited it out until it dimmed and common sense returned, the blood coming back to his brain. If he lost it how he’d lost it with Tyreese, another disaster would come.

He didn’t want any disasters anymore. He didn’t want any complications. He just wanted to keep his people alive, safe and fed. Was it too much to ask these days? His eyes darted up at the empty field—

And—and where the HELL she was anyway!

Turning aside, he threw down the trowel in his hand.

The gardening tool flew from his hand with his fury and hit the wooden fence across him. Tilting his head down, he took off his gloves then and ran his hand over his face, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he stayed crouched on the ground.

He stood up a few minutes later, feeling tired, but his eyes caught Carl walking out of the gate toward him. The morning was aging as Carl came to join him. Today he was going to talk about reinforcing the fences with Michonne and Daryl. They needed to find some steel beams to support the fences. All of the wooden beams almost cracked up two weeks ago on the night Rick had come from Grady. They didn’t have any urgent need as of the moment, but Rick didn’t want to take any more chances with the fence anymore.

Perhaps they even would start up a wall, too. Not too tall, just a defense line, as they would still kill walkers, just to give them more protection and strengthen.

Yeah, that he should find Daryl and Michonne and talk about what they could find…

Not this _stuff_. He had a job to do, had people to keep safe and fed. He didn’t have time for anything else.

“Mornin’, dad!” Carl called out to him, holding the fence on the other side, and in return, Rick nodded. Carl gave him a look. “You okay?”

That question again. These days everyone was asking him that…

Rick tossed a glance at his son. “Yeah. I’m okay. Take that trowel over there—” he pointed with his head where he’d thrown the tool.

With another look, Carl nodded, and went to retrieve it.

He saw Beth walking towards them with agitated steps as Carl came back, holding Judy in her arms. A semi panic stirring in his insides, Rick turned towards the teenager.

“Beth—?” Rick asked as she approached. “Is everything okay?”

Somehow it felt it wasn’t, and he started getting worried, too. Of course, it wasn’t. Amanda Shepherd was a creature of habits and routines. She would’ve never skipped anything if something didn’t happen.

Rick looked at the girl with a frown. “Is Amanda okay?” he asked.

Beth gave him a glance. Rick saw surprise in it. “Yeah. She’s feeling a bit down, but okay. She’ll stay in. I was going to ask Carl to take care of Judy so I can look after her.”

Rick nodded, taking in what the girl said, and gestured at her to give Judith to him. “You asked your dad to check on her?” he asked, taking Judith.

“I called Joan,” the teenager answered. “She’s with her. It’s okay—” she added again, bobbing her head at him determinedly. “We got this.”

From his left side, a whistle echoed in the air. Judith propped on his hip, Rick turned aside and saw Daryl wave at him at the fences.

“Hey—Rick—come o'er here,” the tracker shouted. “You gotta see this.”

Rick gave Judy to Carl and started walking toward Daryl as the teenagers walked back to the prison. Rick wondered what had happened this time.

He stood in front of them below the watch tower where Daryl was with Maggie, Glenn and Michonne. “Glenn found it just this morning,” Daryl started. “It’s started again.”

Rick frowned, giving them sideling looks as they paraded toward the back of the grounds, then stopped, seeing a few feet away from his boots the dead animals again along the fence.

Changing the location, whoever had been feeding the walkers had started again.

He shook his head. “We doubled up the watches?”

Glenn nodded. “Yeah. But it just happened.”

Rick nodded back. “A’right—” he said. “Start looking around. Don’t question anyone yet, but we need to find out who’s doing this.” He paused. “Amanda has a theory,” he continued. “I thought at first someone tried to sabotage us, but it doesn’t fit. This—this isn’t for us. She thinks someone has lost it.”

They all looked at him. “As in…?” Maggie asked with an arched brow. Rick momentarily thought how it was easier doing this with Amanda; two cops on patrol, completing their thoughts, bouncing ideas, but pushed away that thought too.

“As in losing it, yeah,” he said instead. “You remember the woman I encountered?” he asked them. None of them knew the details of that encounter, but they’d heard about it… “She tried to feed me to her husband, her dead husband, a walker. We might have something close to that among us, too.”

“Who?” Glenn asked.

“Well, I don’t know—” Rick replied. “We need to look around. Who’s acting…strange. Out of the ordinary. But don’t make it too obvious. I don’t want it to be known.”

“Where’s Amanda?” Maggie asked a beat later, looking around their compound. “Didn’t she get up? She’s good with this stuff. We need her, too.”

It was sort of weird too hearing the words from Maggie, who was wary and distrustful of her once, but Amanda had her blood in her veins now, too. “Beth said she doesn’t feel well this morning. She’s inside,” Rick answered and watched Maggie frown.

“I thought she was getting better,” the older Greene said. “Beth said she even started doing some workout. What happened?”

Rick shrugged. “I don’t know. Beth just said she doesn’t feel well.”

Maggie gave a brief jerk of her head. “Okay. I’ll check on her—” she said, turning to leave. “I’ll catch up to you later.”

But before she could leave, they heard his name shouted again, in a light feminine voice, “RICK!”

They all turned back and saw Beth as she ran towards them over the grass. “Beth?” Maggie yelled at her sister, running down to meet her. They followed, too, Rick picking up speed, feeling something was definitely off, and also had a feeling what, no whom, was behind it.

He just knew.

“Beth—what happened?” Maggie questioned as they all stopped. Beth bent to hold her knees, breathless, then she raised her head at them.

“It—it is—Amanda—” she roughed out between breaths. Rick just knew it…he just did… “She—I c-caught her talking with Joan—”

Rick took a step closer and held the girl’s shoulder. “Beth, what happened?”

Her wide blue eyes found his. “She—she was talking about leaving and killing Gorman. I caught her telling it to Joan.”

“What?” Maggie exclaimed as Rick felt cold inside— “Has she—has she gone mad?”

“Rick—” Beth called out to him again, drawing up. “I told her I’m gon’ tell you. She can’t leave. You have to talk to her.”

Rick stared at the teenager. Then without a word, he turned on his heel and started marching back toward the prison.

Talk to her?

No _._

He was—he was—he was going to kill her!

# # #

As Amanda waited in her cell, her head still between her hands, she wondered if it was too late now to sneak away. She could just grab a rifle and run off…

Even that sounded more preferable than waiting for Rick to show up. God, she hated it. She fucking hated it!

“I should go,” Joan remarked, giving her a look. Amanda felt it even with her bowed head.

She nodded. “Yeah…”

“Think about it, ‘kay?” the woman told her. “It’s insane.”

Amanda just stayed silent.

Perhaps it was insane, but well, she was going to do it anyway.

She wanted to do it anyway. Him there… living like nothing had happened—living in his victory, hurting people. It didn’t feel right. She wasn’t going to stand aside and watch it, like she always did.

No.

Not this time.

She wanted revenge. More precisely, she _wanted_ to rip off his dick and make him choke on it.

He deserved nothing less than that.

She stood up, standing in the cell. She just didn’t want to explain herself…to Rick Grimes of all people.

Beth…Joan, they were different. She’d wanted Joan to know, and she wanted Beth not to feel bad for her. She hated it. She hated doing it to her, even to Maggie. They'd kept her alive, had given her their blood. She just couldn’t let that sonofabitch go like nothing had happened.

She just couldn’t.

Lamson’s head blew off behind her eyes again, and Tyreese followed…

Her clothes tightened around her body like a cage she fitted herself in, suffocating her, and she wanted her uniform. She wanted it back. The way it’d been, the way things were supposed to be, Lamson calling her Mandy giving her one of those looks, despite knowing she hated it…

Lamson, her partner, the only constant in her life she’d ever had, for more than a decade. Before him, Amanda had never known something like that. People came and went in foster homes; you always knew that.

She shook her head, tears threatening to break. Her eyes caught her bloodied pants that still lay over in the corner, so she took them and went to the laundry room.

She wanted her uniform back. She could find a white tee shirt around. It wouldn’t be the same, but she could pretend the rest.

She had a thing for that, as well.

The room was as cool as the last time she had been there to wash her uniform—and memory almost brought a tearful laugh out of her. How could she be that stupid? How?

She threw the pants into the long washing trough and started filling it with water from one of the tanks close by and found the soap.

Blood. It wasn’t easy to wash off blood with only a bar of soap.

It stuck on everything.

She leaned down and started scrubbing. She didn’t know how long it took exactly but when she felt a gaze behind her back, she knew it was Rick.

She didn’t turn back, just kept washing her pants. She needed them back.

He stayed silent for a little while, too, then let out a little sigh. “I thought you were sick.”

“Feel better—” she mumbled out, still leaning down.

“Were you faking it?” he asked.

She shrugged in response.

He scoffed, then told her—no, ordered her, “Stop it. We need to talk.”

She didn’t listen. “I need to finish this.” Her hands rubbed faster.

“Amanda, stop.”

She kept scrubbing… and a hand reached out over her shoulder and whisked her pants out from her hands. “I said stop—goddammit!”

Her hands empty, her eyes widened, she twirled around— “ _WHAT_ the fuck are you doing!” she exclaimed, looking at her pants as he dropped them on the ground a few feet away from him. Her eyes flashing, she shook her head and started walking to take them back.

Holding her upper arm, he tried to stop her.

She pulled herself away, pushing him off, holding on the last of her common sense not to knee him in his groin. “You fucking moron!” she sneered in a hiss. “I was trying to clean them!”

“I told you to stop.”

“Go fuck yourself, Rick.”

“For Christ’s sake, Amanda, forget the bloody pants!” he cried at her as she went to her pants. “We need to talk.”

She bent down to pick them up off the tiles. “I _don’t_ want to talk.” She walked back to the wash basin and threw the damn things back inside. “Leave me alone.”

He let out an incredulous laugh behind her back. “So that is it—” he asked her. “I leave you alone, and you run away to kill that bastard? Getting yourself killed in the meanwhile? That’s what you want?”

 _Yes_ —came to the tip of her tongue, at least without the getting herself killed part. She didn’t have a death wish. She didn’t want to die. Still. No. She just wanted to _kill_ Gorman.

“I told him—I _swore_ to him—” she growled instead, starting to scrub her pants again. “I’m gonna rip off his dick and make him eat it—make him choke on it. Hard to do it here sitting on my ass.”

“ _Very_ _nice_ ,” he sneered from behind her. “Pray to tell me how?”

She gave a rub to the cloth between her fingers and hissed. “I have a plan.”

“ _Really?_ ”

The question was taunting, as dry as his voice, and anger firing in her even further, she threw the pants down in the basin. She turned around to face him, holding her soapy hand up in the air— “Well, I was going to take one of the rifles—”

He cut her off, “You mean you were going to _steal_ from me again?”

For a second, she really wanted to kick him in his balls, she really wanted it. “ _Fine!_ ” she spat. “Have your damn precious guns! I’ll find another way!”

Rick shook his head. “Amanda—d-do you even listen to what you’re saying?” he asked her. “This is insane.”

She raised a soapy hand at him and waved it, bubbles flying in the air toward him. “I DON’T care!” she yelled back. “I’m going to kill him! He’s out there, doing whatever he wants at Grady, and I’m not okay with it. I WON’T let him win this time!”

Not after all the things he had done. _No_.

“So this is what it is about?” Rick asked, walking to her closer, his eyes stern. She saw his anger building in him further as well as she wiped her hands clean over her jeans. “Y-you want revenge?”

Her head snapped up at him. “Yes, dammit! I want revenge!” she yelled again. “He killed my partner. He killed Tyreese!”

Rick shook his head, his eyes capturing hers. “ _Don’t_ bring them into this. You don’t want to do it for them. You want to do it for yourself.”

“He deserves to die,” she hissed back, looking back at him in the eye. “Painfully.”

She expected his anger to turn worse after that, but Rick gave her another look. Then he shook his head with a sigh. “Amanda, it’s not worth it—” he said with a low voice. “It’s not worth it to risk your own life.”

“Every breath we take is a risk,” she recited Dr. Hershel’s words. “You said it yourself too. I can decide what to do with mine.” She stopped then and shook her head. “I—I owe them at least that much.”

“They’re dead,” he stated, his words simple, his voice cool, matter of fact, and Amanda for a second thought Rick Grimes was another kind of a bastard, too.

“Yes…” she clipped. “Because of _him_.”

“What about what you owe us then?” he asked her a second later, taking another step closer to her, getting in her personal space, and his eyes—those damn keen, sharp blue eyes found hers again. “What about us, Amanda?”

Us?

What us? There was no _us_.

“Slow down there, cowboy,” she sneered. “There’s no us! We _only_ kissed once. _Once_ ,” she repeated. “And we did it _only_ because we both thought we were never going to see each other again. Don’t even try to deny it! So, don’t act now like we’re soulmates or something!”

Blue eyes, brazenly lit with a cold fire, stared at her, his face carved out of granite. “I _wasn’t_ talking about that, but thank ya for clarification,” he remarked stonily, and continued before she could even open her mouth and say something back.

“I was talking about _us_ —” he repeated pointedly. “All of us. Tyreese took a bullet for you. Beth—Beth kept you alive all the way back here. When she stepped out of the car, she couldn’t even walk. They carried her inside. She nearly bled herself dry for you. _Maggie_ was right beside you during the surgery, giving you blood the whole time. _I_ watched you die, Amanda. I listened to that damn beep of the flatline. I revived you with my own hands.”

He took another step in. “So yeah, what about _us_?” he asked again as she stared back at him in silence, her anger leaving its place into a sadness she felt deep in her bones. Tears started filling her eyes. “Why are you so damn determined to die on us?”

She shook her head, bowing it. “Rick—”

“I know it feels wrong, but you have to let it go—”

She shook her bowed head again. “I don’t want to,” she muttered.

“You _have to_. There’s no other choice. Do you think I like it? Do you think I want to leave him there, knowing what he did? Do you think it feels right to me? It doesn’t. But I’ve got no other choice. He’s just one more bastard outside. Even if you kill him, it won’t change anything—”

She cut him off, lifting her head up. “What about the people at Grady?” she asked, her voice heating up again. “What about Percy? I’m supposed to leave him behind, too?”

“We don’t have the luxury of doing the right thing anymore, Amanda. You have to decide what you want. You want to live here with us, be a part of us, or you want to go and risk your life for revenge…for getting back at him? I know you don’t only think of Percy, Amanda. Don’t lie to yourself.”

She couldn’t, god, she couldn’t... “He _deserves_ it,” she hissed at him again.

Rick gave her another look back, stern but cool. “I know—” he accepted. “My best friend… _my_ _partner_. He did something he shouldn’t have, too. When I learned about it, I wanted to break his jaw—make him choke on his teeth. He deserved it. But I didn’t. I let it go. It wasn’t weakness, Amanda. It took everything.”

She shook her head, recalling what he’d told her on the bench and let out a bitter laugh. “You _killed_ him, Rick. You told me yourself.”

But Rick shook his head at her in return. “Not because of that,” he declined, his words simple and placid. “I did it because there was no going back, and we were stuck with him, and he wasn’t going anywhere. I killed him because if I didn’t, he was going to kill me.” He stopped again. “If you want to go, go. Take the rifle as well. I won’t stop you.” He paused for a second. “Hershel was right. It’s your life in the end, and we all have to decide which way we want to risk it. I wish I could come and help you, but I won’t. I can’t risk it that way. Not anymore.”

“I—I didn’t ask for you to help, Rick,” she replied. She didn’t want them to die on her as well. “I don’t want you to die on me, either.”

“I know—” he said, “This place—this place is what all matters to me, Amanda. Keeping my people safe, my family, my _children_ … safe, together, fed. That’s _what’s_ important, everything else than…” He shook his head. “There’s that man. Another sonofabitch. He tortured us, he killed us. He almost ruined the prison. We won at the last minute. He ran away. He’s out there somewhere. Michonne still looks for him. I don’t. But I want to. I so want to, too. Want to find him and kill him for what he did, _painfully_.” His eyes stared at her again. “But I won’t. Because he’s just one of many sonofabitches outside. He’s not important.” He gestured with his head, and repeated. “This—this’s what’s important. Our home. _Us_.”

“And I’m one of them, Rick?” she asked back with a small voice.

His eyes never wavered from her as he answered. “You’re sleeping in C, two cell blocks away from my son and my baby girl,” he stated simply. “I've pegged you as a smart girl, Amanda. Do the math.”

Despite everything between them, she laughed at that, bittersweet. Rick shook his head again, running a hand over his face. “I want you to stay, Amanda. I want you to take strolls with Beth, do your silly workouts. I want you to make patrols with me at the fence. Even Maggie asked for you today. We found something. She wanted you to look at it. So—so don’t go and die on us, okay? We watched enough people die.”

Without understanding what was happening, her eyes still stuck on him, she found herself nodding. “Okay.”

“Good—” he confirmed. “You’ve got Greene blood in you now, Amanda. If nothing else, that alone makes you one of us now.”

Wordlessly, she nodded again. “Now go and find Beth and tell her you won’t do anything stupid,” he told her. “You nearly gave her a heart attack this morning.”

She bowed her head, a redness coming up over her neck. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he muttered, his tone softening, sounding tired. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

She nodded again. He turned and started walking away. “Rick—” she called hastily at his back. “I—what I said-earlier—about…um—us—” she faltered, not knowing what to say, but she felt she had to, but he shook his head at her, stopping her.

“No. This is enough for me today,” he said, his voice turning stern again. “I can’t take any _other_ talk right now.” He paused a second, giving her a last look over his shoulder. “We’re gonna do it later.”

Wordlessly, she nodded again, not quite understanding what he’d meant, but felt it as well. She was tired as well. So, in silence, she watched his retreating back as he walked out of the laundry room.

# # #

She apologized to Beth in Rick Grimes’s style.

After their talk, she went out to the fields and started picking flowers—a bouquet of yellow and blue flowers and daisies- and tied it with a piece of cloth. Rick had returned to his field, had already started working with Carl, and Amanda kept her eyes down at the ground, looking for more flowers—the best she could find around.

She went back a quarter of an hour later and found Beth on the benches, Judith sitting on her knees, sunbathing.

She was alone with the baby. Amanda walked toward them; her hands hidden behind her back. Beth gave her a look, a hurtful one. Leaping up on the first step, Amanda brought her arms around. She extended the bouquet toward Beth. “I’m sorry,” she told the girl. “I was an idiot.”

Beth looked at her, taking the flowers with her empty hand. “You staying?”

Amanda nodded simply. “Good—” Beth intoned. “If you died, I wouldn’t cry after you, either,” she added after a second, almost thoughtfully as Amanda sat down beside her.

Amanda let out a small laughter, still bittersweet. “C’mon, not even a lone tear of sisterhood?” she asked and bumped her shoulder against the teenager, holding Judith’s small hand, looking at the baby… “You know…I’ve got Greene blood in my veins now.”

The girl laughed back in the same way Amanda did, then her eyes found Amanda’s under her bowed head. “What did Rick tell you?” Beth inquired.

Still holding the baby’s hand, Amanda let out a low sigh. “Well, basically, he told me not to be an idiot, Beth.”

# # #

That night Rick took the first shift at the fences with Daryl.

They patrolled in silence, even the growls and snarls from the fences lessened with darkness, their flashlights casting little light on the ground as they looked for dead animals.

Whoever might be doing this, Rick knew, he came at nights. There wasn’t any other time. “Hm—” Daryl suddenly broke the silence between them, still holding his light tilted down in the same way Rick did, “Heard Shepherd stays.”

Turning aside, Rick gave the hunter a look, almost surprised that he commented on that. Daryl was even worse than him with talking about stuff, but he’d done it, so Rick nodded. “Yeah, she does.”

Daryl gave a brisk jerk of his head as well. “Good,” the man roughed out. “Another cop might be good for us.” Absently Rick bobbed his head again as the hunter tossed him a sidelong look. “A new partner for you.”

Rick almost snorted. “Yeah.”

Then suddenly Daryl turned and looked at him directly. “Can I ask ya something, man?”

Taken aback with the sudden so-not-like-Daryl move, Rick felt off—feeling something he would’ve preferred not to answer was coming, but Daryl—who never asked _permission_ to ask anything to anyone was asking it, he also felt he should hear it.

Rick tilted his head at the tracker to go ahead. “Michonne—” Daryl started lowly, “Michonne ‘s been lookin’ for Governor for six months now. You aint never bothered by it.”

Then Rick understood. He shook his head. “It’s not the same,” he replied. “Michonne doesn’t know where Governor is. She just goes after a cold trail. Amanda knows it, knows it well.” He paused for a second. “It’s different, Daryl.”

“How?” the hunter asked back.

This time Rick stayed silent. He—he could give a million reasons why it was different. Governor—Rick had an unfinished business too with Governor, his own vendetta—which he chose to let it go at the moment, but if the man somehow was found—he didn’t know. But nevertheless, that wasn’t the answer why he didn’t talk.

Because he’d never cared much Michonne leaving to look for the man, but if their positions were reserved, and Amanda wanted to do the same—wanted to look for her own sonofabitch's cold trail, Rick knew his reaction still would’ve been the same. He knew with a perfect clarity that he still wouldn’t have wanted her to do it.

It was—it was simply different.

Because...she was. She was different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, "she's different" thing. LOL. While I was writing, it came to my attention how Gorman and Amanda situation started resembling Michonne and Governor, and I thought I could've played with it, as Michonne isn't yet involved with Rick. And I think it'd make things a lot clearer for Rick. And of course, as the silent observant as ever, Daryl was the one who picked it up.
> 
> Their talk was heavy-and Amanda stays, all in frankness, I don't want Amanda go on a revenge mission to find Gorman, and such, and let's be real, Rick would've never risked it for people he doesn't even know, either. I think Amanda needs to learn to let it go her obsession. I want her to try to settle down-having to start a familial connection with the Greenes before shit hits the fan like usual. He he, I really wanted her to make it up for Beth in Rick's fashion too, with flowers and such :) And of course, telling her that she's got Greene blood in her veins, too. Before any romance with Rick, I want her having a family love with the Greenes. The girl deserves it :)
> 
> For Rick part, well, *that* other talk has still come... I think I'll get it out the next chap, too. In this chapter, I felt it would be too much, as Rick couldn't have done that much of talking in one single go, lol. So, he left it there, knowing they need to talk, but later.
> 
> "She's different" part is coming from Suits too, from Harvey and Donna. Amanda felt it too, when she didn't ask him to stay for sex, and it was Rick's turn now. I'm gonna play with that too, as in the Suits. I was a big fan of Harvey and Donna, and I want Rick and Amanda have the same dynamics for a while. Not romantically involved, but different for each other.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this's gonna be a slow one again because I need to get *this* talk out of the way, too.  
> Enjoy :)

**XIX.**

The next morning at dawn, she came out again, but this time Rick dutifully kept his eyes trained on his job, digging, cleaning, checking the roots.

His talk with Daryl from last night was still clear in his mind, but so were her words.

_Slow down, cowboy._

And he was, he was slowing down. She was different, it was quite obvious, but it didn’t mean that—didn’t mean that they were soulmates or something: her words.

Rick really should pay more attention to what she said.

_We only kissed once. Once._

A closure of sorts. The rest just went out of the control, ahead of them. Amanda must feel the same, too, apparently. She’d stayed just as Rick and all of _them_ wanted her to, so yeah, everything was good.

Everything could return to normal now.

As normal as it could be with their lives at least.

Rick needed to make that talk now and be done it—safely put it away. Yesterday he just couldn’t do it, all that anger and weariness just had him spent. That was _how_ he was feeling most days, one moment coursing through anger and the next in weariness.

That was how _she_ made him feel, too. One moment she made him angry, being a damn stubborn mule like she was, not even listening to him, keep scrubbing her damn pants, swearing at his face with her soapy hands, throwing bubbles at his face. Then the next she made him feel spent, showing her own true colors, showing her own weakness, her own weariness. And Rick was tired bouncing between two opposite ends of the emotional spectrum.

There were those rare moments that she made him laugh, too, made him cool off, two cops on patrol, and he wanted those—not the other parts.

He was slowing down.

When her workout finished, he expected her to go inside again as silently as she’d come out, but instead of returning to the prison, she started walking toward the field.

Rick let out a sigh, keeping his head bowed.

He didn’t raise it either, when she came to the picket fence and leaned over it, putting one foot propped against it. “Hey—” she called out to him with a small voice.

Rick nodded, still digging with his trowel, crouched down on the dirt before he returned the greeting with a low ‘mornin’.

He felt her look a second before she started speaking. “Yesterday you said—uh—” His hands almost paused as she halted for a second— “Uh, Maggie found something and wanted me to look at it,” she continued. “What was it?”

He finally lifted his head after that. Her face, cheeks were flushed from her exercise and moist with perspiration, her bun turned again messy, and her hair frizzing out of the corners. She still looked beautiful, _alive_ , but Rick kept those thoughts away from his mind now. “It’s the fences. We found dead animals again,” he explained, standing up.

“Oh—” she breathed out, and asked, “Where?”

“Close to the back field this time.”

“He must’ve understood he got caught—” Amanda commented.

Rick nodded, taking off his gloves and pushed them at the back of his pocket. “I—I’ll go and change my clothes, and we take a tour, okay?” she asked.

In silence, with a quick darting look, a bit surprised, Rick gave another nod. He’d sort of expected her to hide herself in some corner again like yesterday. “Yeah.”

She came back fifteen or so minutes later. Without his watch, it was getting harder to keep track of the time. Carol’s watch was still in his cell, but Rick couldn’t bring himself to put it in his pocket. Her sports attire gone, Amanda was clad in tight jeans and the dark green top again. He’d half expected her to change back to her pants from her uniform.

Given how she had been so hell bent on washing them yesterday.

But she hadn’t. She kept the borrowed clothes even though she’d remade her hair into another tight bun. Stopping at the wooden fence, she nodded at him. “Let’s go.”

They walked around the perimeter as she scanned her eyes around. “We need to train more people,” she commented softly, the snarls and growls of the walkers coming closer as they toured along the fences. “Have more watches. We need to mix the shifts.”

Rick frowned. “What do you mean? I already separated Glenn and Maggie’s shifts.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not talking about that. I saw Daryl and Michonne taking shifts together. It’s a waste. Your—our—” she corrected a second later, and Rick felt…good with the correction, with the _“our”_ , but tried to suppress it.

“Our numbers are dwindling after the infection and the fence attack, right?” Amanda continued. “We need to recruit more people now. We need to give a rookie to an experienced fighter, so they could learn the drills from the best. When I came into the force after the Academy, they gave me to Lamson for training, and he was already a senior officer.”

Understanding her point, Rick nodded. “We used to do it too,” he said, turning aside a bit and gave her a small smile back. “Though we didn’t have many rookies at our Sheriff’s Department.”

“I imagine. Have you ever elected a woman as Sheriff?” she asked, tossing him a side glance.

“Not that I could recall.”

She scoffed low in her throat. “You know how it is,” he murmured, and she nodded with a yeah. He gave her another look, his gaze searching this time, curious. “Lamson—” he slowly talked again. “Was he your partner from the start?”

“From the very first day—” she answered, nodding. “He—he was such an asshole at first.” A smile lifted her lips upward faintly as she half turned towards him. “If you _ever_ mention this to anyone, I’ll deny it until my last breath, but I don’t even remember now how many times he made me cry in the bathroom during my first year.”

Surprised, he twisted fully at her, too. “What?” he asked, frowning a bit. “Why?”

She shrugged, her eyes skipping toward him as they began walking again. “Well—he thought of me as a mole—” She let out a little sigh, turning ahead. “You know a mob plant. Most of them did.”

Rick didn’t ask why. He understood. Mobs—gangs of the city. Their recruitments mostly used to come from the youngsters who lived in the streets, gutters of the city or the foster homes. And, Amanda was really a pretty woman, too. He knew what that meant, too.

For a moment or so, Rick thought to ask her why she’d wanted to become a cop, but he kept his mouth shut.

He was slowing down.

They stayed in silence then until they arrived at the part of the back field of the prison where they’d found the dead animals yesterday morning.

This morning, there were none.

“Well, it’s clean now,” Amanda commented.

Rick turned and gazed at the prison’s blocks. D Block was in the clear sight with the left part of the C. A wasn’t in the range, but it was also empty after the quarantine. “Someone from D might jump from the back windows and run here,” he said aloud, thinking on the idea.

They were so few now in C. One of them could kill people to protect what they had, but start losing it like this? No.

Rick knew it wasn’t. All in frankness, the only possible candidate in C Block who had an inkling to lose it like this was _him_ , and he wasn’t feeding any walkers.

Amanda nodded, too. “Possibly. And whoever it might be, he already caught that you’re onto him—” She pointed to the empty grass with a tilt of her head. “You asked others to check around?”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. Told them to keep it quiet.”

She nodded again as a shiver passed through her. Rick almost saw her tremble. “You know—this…this is giving me the creeps.”

“I know. Me too.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think I could ask Joan and Noah to keep a look on the block for us, too.”

“Yeah—” Rick said again, his eyes turning to the prison block. “It’d be good. Joan seems like a smart woman.”

“She is—” Amanda agreed, bobbing her head another time before she turned to him again. “Rick, I—I want to train them. I can’t have them like this anymore. They—” She swallowed lowly. “They need to learn to protect themselves.” She paused for a breath. “Can I do it?”

Looking at her back, Rick shook his head. “Amanda, you don’t need my permission to train two adults,” he told her with a sigh. “You’re _not_ at Grady anymore. I’m not your CO.”

She jerked her eyes away. “Well—it’s your guns,” she murmured and flicked her gaze back at him. “And you weren’t talking like _that_ yesterday… I quite remember you ordering me around.”

“That was different,” he shot back, shaking his head. “I still need to know what you’re doing with guns—when you’ll do it—where you’ll do it, how you’ll do it, _yes_ ,” he admitted. “And if the council makes a decision, you need to heed it, but for anything else, you don’t need my permission.”

She darted him a flittering look, then nodded again. “Okay.”

Their eyes turning away from each other, they elapsed into silence.

Away in the distance Rick could hear the day slowly beginning in the blocks and in the front yard, their people awakening up. A few walkers started coming toward their direction as the others drew toward the noises. Amanda bowed her head, looking at the ground. Rick stared ahead until silence felt like a living breathing thing between them.

Holding back a sigh, Rick ran a hand over his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose before he finally said, “About yesterday…we still need to talk, I guess.”

“Yeah…” Amanda murmured and raised her head as if to get ready herself. At the other side of the fence, two walkers got closer toward them and tried to claw through the chain link. They both didn’t even spare a glance at the dead corpses.

“When you told me that wasn’t a proper way to say farewell, Amanda,” Rick then started. “I kissed you because I wanted to,” he told her truthfully. “And I don’t regret it.” He didn’t. It was something they had to do at the moment, and in that moment he wanted to do it, and it would’ve ended there, but it hadn’t. But still Rick didn’t regret it’d happened.

“I felt—I felt we needed some closure,” he tried to explain. “And it—it looked like the right thing to do, and yes, I thought we were really saying goodbye,” he admitted. “So it happened.”

“I know,” she said, nodding. “I wanted it, too, Rick, and I don’t regret it, either.” She gave him a look after that and smiled a bit, almost shy, and he…thought again…beautiful, but pushed it away from his mind… “It was a very good kiss,” she remarked, with that smile and all. “You’re a good kisser.”

He made a small noise at the compliment before she continued, “And—and um, frankly…I find you _really_ hot—” Another fleeting coy smile before she let out a small huff. “But I don’t want things to get…complicated…romantically. I hate when it happens.”

Quite precisely put. “I understand—” he told her. “I don’t want any complication in my life, either.”

“And…casual sex isn’t an option, either.” She made a little gulp. “Sex…it kinda complicates things, too.”

Giving her a look, he shook his head. “I don’t do casual.”

He didn’t. He’d tried a couple of times before Lori at college and found it—not his style. Too mechanical, just scratching an itch, no real depth or connection, it’d felt as if he was masturbating with a live body, knowing nothing about the woman he was with other than her name and the drink she preferred. Then afterward, he met Lori—then well, he’d never been with anyone else after that. He’d _never_ cheated.

But Amanda was giving at him a look now, open and measuring, and _dry_ , and Rick didn’t like it, either. “I _tried_ —” he rasped at her.

She laughed at that. “I _see_. No casual sex.” She shrugged. “It wouldn’t work anyway. You can’t fuck people casually if you’re gonna be stuck with them for breakfast. I mean it contradicts the whole point, right?” she joked, but he didn’t laugh.

She cleared her throat and asked, “So…um, we’re okay?”

Were they? Rick had no idea. _This_ wasn’t going how he supposed it should, but then again, Rick had never done anything like this before, so he wasn’t sure how it was supposed to go. With all of her airy sexy comments and retorts, Amanda didn’t look like she knew the same, and Rick wasn’t sure it was a…good thing or not, either.

He sighed. Honesty, he just needed to be honest with her. “Amanda,” he started then again. “I don’t want things to be like this between us.” He gestured around with a hand wave. “Awkward. Weird. I want us to be—friends.”

She let out a faint scoff for that. “I’ve pegged you as a smart guy, too, Rick,” she said in return. “Don’t disappoint me, please.” She shook her head, her eyes cutting over toward the fence as she glanced at the two walkers still clawing at the fence. “You know we _can’t_ be friends. Not like this—not when—” Another breath out, and she turned her gaze on him. “Well—not when most of the time I either want to kick your ass or want to fuck you senseless.”

Quite precisely put, indeed.

He stared at her, and this time she didn’t turn away, only gave a little shrug, and even with the vulgar words she managed to look coyly _shy_ —and for a second, for a long second, Rick fought the worst kind of battle in his life. He…he battled with himself…not to drop her on the ground and fuck her senseless.

The urge was so strong—he couldn’t even tear his eyes away from hers—and if they had sex now, it _couldn’t_ be anything casual, not even damn close.

He cleared out his throat and nodded again. Common sense… He needed common sense. He— _they_ didn’t need complications. “Okay,” he roughed out in agreement. “ _No_ friends business—” Pausing, he gave her another look. “But we can be partners, right?” he asked. “Two cops, doing their jobs. We can be…professionals.”

At his words, she tilted her head aside and gave him a long look. “I suppose. I don’t fuck my colleagues. Don’t shit where you eat principle.”

He nodded at her as his feet moved an inch toward her, his eyes on hers, too. “A good principle.”

“Saves you from drama—” she breathed out with a hoarse voice, her feet taking a step further too… “You know office romance…” and she licked her bottom lip, her eyes riveted on his … “always ends in tears…”

Rick wondered what she would do if he kissed her now. Her eyes had turned a darker shade of green, glistening, and Rick could…almost smell her arousal—the pheromones in her body seemed to be emitting out of her every pore in his direction…

He remembered his dream—the way she smiled at him over her shoulder as Rick hugged her from behind, the way her body felt against his, nimbly nested against his, as if she was made for him—then his eyes caught the metal glint of his ring.

And, she caught it, too.

Before he could do anything, her expression closing off, she pulled back, putting a few inches between them, and reading the gesture loud and clear, Rick…let her.

“Partners?” she asked with a clear voice a few seconds later, not a throaty, hoarse whisper, but cool and placid.

Giving her a nod back, Rick agreed, “Partners.”

# # #

The next day, after her workout session was finished, Amanda changed into her uniform’s pants, put on the white tee shirt she had borrowed from Glenn, made her hair up into her bun, and went to find him for their morning patrol.

As they agreed to be partners, they damn well should have some rituals.

So, some harmless morning patrols were in order for them. It was also nice, as she really liked having the sense of the prison in the morning before anyone else woke up.

When she found him in his field, he gave her a full look, assessing her newly chosen _fashion statement_ but didn’t comment.

Well, after all they’d decided on it _together_. They stood on the edge, but decided not to make the leap of faith, like any sane person would do.

For a crazy moment yesterday, though, Amanda almost felt he was going to do it…take the leap and kiss her again. His eyes—those damn eyes were staring at her so intensely, peeling back her every layer—leaving her bare. She saw desire in them, too, and a myriad of other things she couldn’t decipher, and—she really didn’t want things to get complicated… She really hated when it happened—but then again, perhaps… she could make an exception for him… once…she would try...

Without even realizing, the idea started to play in her mind even when her lips muttered, _saves you from drama_ , and a part of her asked what if—those damn things—then his gaze lowered, and he checked his ring.

And, her moment of wishful thinking gone, the reality kicked back in.

But all in frankness, Rick Grimes was the type of a man your mama would warn you not to get involved—not because he was one of those so-called bad boys—no, not damn close, because he was one of those nice men who would break your heart in the worst way.

A man who was still in love with another woman.

It even didn’t matter if the woman was here or not. For Rick, _she_ was still here, and Amanda had seen so much from the other people’s dramas to know when a battle like that was lost.

Besides, she really hated love triangles, couldn’t even stomach them in the movies. For herself in real life?

No way.

No fucking way.

So, yeah, two cops on a patrol, and they needed some damn rituals to return to normal. They could _never_ be friends, but they could be professionals, like Rick had said.

Smart guy.

Hot, nice, and smart—a good man, a good father—not to mention good looking…Ugh. And in love with someone else, Amanda reminded herself.

Like she was, he was attracted to her, obviously. He’d even admitted he didn’t regret kissing her, and she’d liked it, liked hearing the confirmation from him. Something had lifted off her chest hearing the words, too, but still, he was still in love with someone else, dead or not didn’t matter.

Because Amanda really fucking hated dramas.

God, she really missed her uniform. The ease as she paraded in her combat pants, the leisure of it— _so_ _nice_.

Yes, that was what she was.

The girl she liked to be, perfectly content in her comfort zone where she knew her shit, being in control. The familiar relief was there too, no disturbance in her—Amanda Shepherd was back.

And she was fucking glad of it.

“Ready for your morning stroll, Deputy?” she asked him, leaning over the fence, propping a foot up.

Without giving her a glance from the field, Rick nodded. “Yeah.”

He stood up, took off his gloves and pushed them in his back pocket. Her eyes caught the simple, idle gesture, and she found herself getting hot again, turned on as she watched him—

Goddammit!

She bowed her head, almost with a sigh. He tossed her a glance. She caught it under her bowed head, but didn’t ask anything.

Perhaps their stupid talk was good to no shit.

It’d been so bizarre. Not even once in her life, Amanda had ever done something remotely close to it. There was only Michael before, the lawyer who took pro-bono cases related to their district. They used to hang around until one day he started sputtering things like commitment and such, and Amanda said no. The end of the story. She heard from him once via voice mail, but they never talked to each other again.

This—this was a fucking mess. How could people do it, she wondered. And Rick and her—they hadn’t even broken up. They’d only kissed once.

They weren’t kids. They were grown-ups.

Professionals.

Colleagues.

Two cops making a morning patrol.

She felt his gaze on her again and lifted her head—and saw him waiting for her. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Amanda nodded and padded after him. They started making their tour, the growls and snarls from the other side of the fence their usual background noises. People had already started coming out for fence duty, too, as they looked for any dead animals or any other abnormality.

“Hey—” she called out to him before they finished half of their tour. “I want to ask you something,” she started, and for a second, he paused, turning to her a little. “Maybe you have to run it with the council. I don’t know. I just thought about it, but it can’t be my decision.”

He jerked his head at her. “Go on.”

“I’m gonna start teaching Noah and Joan. I’ll look for a place today to set up a training field.” He nodded again. “I’m gonna ask others too,” she continued. “If anyone wants to attend too. Beth will come.”

“You still need to talk it with Hershel first,” Rick replied as they drew away from the cluster of people gathered for fence duty.

She shook her head. “I told Beth, but she said she’s gonna do it herself.” This time Rick nodded. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to ask. I—I was thinking about the kids—” Amanda added thoughtfully.

That halted his steps entirely. He turned to her. “You said you didn't stop Carol when she started teaching kids how to use knives and such—” Amanda remarked. “Do—do you think we should restart doing those, too? I—I might start a class or something.”

Rick gave her a look. “Do you—do you want to?” he asked.

She let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I—I don’t like kids needing to learn this stuff, but you know…” Her eyes lifted at his. “Luck runs out.”

Slowly, he nodded. “I’ll talk about it in the council. Then we’ll decide. We need to talk with parents, too, I guess.”

“Yeah. Possibly.”

They started walking again. Her words brought her back to another reality, another fact. She looked at the fence: rotters clustered, people killing them, an endless routine - one Amanda realized she didn’t like, not even a bit.

_Luck runs out._

She wondered how many days exactly passed since she’d come here that morning, at the edge of death… Close to three weeks now, she guessed, but keeping the tabs was getting harder. And Beth’s board had stayed at Grady.

Suddenly she felt sad as her guilt and the fact that she had left her people behind found her; the fact that Amanda Shepherd was moving on with her life again. The old same bitterness was still inside her, stuck on her like a second skin, and for a second, feeling an incredible sadness, Amanda thought she was going to cry, as well.

She swallowed and let out a deep breath. “Rick—” she called out to him again, trying to keep her voice from wavering. “How many days have passed since I’ve been here?”

His answer didn’t hesitate. “Eighteen.”

She almost made a throaty sob as something coiled in her chest so tightly; the way he answered, so fast, so certain, so without hesitation—the clear _fact_ that he’d been counting…

“Why did you ask?” he asked, giving her another look.

She tried a shrug as they started walking again. “Just wanted to know how many days we passed without an accident,” she replied, keeping her voice clear off emotion, bowing her head. “I—Beth’s board stayed at Grady.”

“We can find another one around for you two—” he told her slowly. “So you can start counting again.”

Amanda nodded, gulping through a lump in her throat, and wished…she really wished they could at least….try. Perhaps in another life.

“I—I’d love that,” she whispered in this lifetime.

They both stopped side by side at the fence and looked at the world outside full of the dead. “Beth told me you saw thirty once before,” she remarked, her eyes on the rotters, snarls and grows their usual background, a part of their world, a part of their life much as the rotting smell…

“We never managed more than anything up fifteen at Grady,” she continued slowly. “I hope we manage to pass thirty.” She darted at him a look, but he was just looking ahead. “I’d like to see that.”

His eyes still ahead, Rick gave her nod. “So do I, Amanda, so do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, they're both "I don't want any complication in my life" state right now, even though they were about to have sex, and that wedding ring again. He he. I wanted the talk being a bizarre conversation, too, as they both aren't accustomed to do these kinds of stuff--and Amanda cracking up 'sex' jokes continuously, Rick feeling weird, then finally deciding to be "professionals"  
> Hope it worked out. It was kinda hard to do it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, things are picking up pace :)  
> Enjoy.

**XX.**

Amanda woke up, feeling sunlight slowly—so—so slowly creeping in the dimness of prison through the barred windows in the hall over into her cell and pushed back from the bed.

Another day was starting, a new day.

She smiled, walking to the small stool in the corner where she’d placed the blackboard Rick had found for her.

It wasn’t as fancy as Beth’s. It was a simple blackboard, no cute designs over it, no dressings, no decorating, but each morning Amanda woke up since last week, she still smiled at it.

She took the white chalk from the edge of the board, and with her other hand rubbed out the number she’d written yesterday.

Another day passed without an accident.

She bent down and wrote down twenty-five at the blackboard.

Five days—then they were up to thirty.

Still smiling, she got dressed, and went out for her daily running.

It was going to be a good day.

# # #

Later in the morning, when she was back to her cell after her usual morning patrol with Rick, Beth gave her a suspicious look as Amanda gave a hard tug at the trapeze swing she prepared from old sheets and hung up from the ceiling around metal hooks. The cloth proved sturdily attached, and Amanda nodded approvingly. “That should do it—” she murmured.

But Beth was still suspicious. The teenager gave her swing another wary look and looked up at her from where she sat at the edge of the bottom bunk. “Amanda—" the girl asked. “Are—are you really sure this is a good idea?”

Even her voice sounded suspicious. Amanda tossed her a mockingly chiding look. “Now Beth, it wouldn’t hurt you to have a little bit of faith—” she shot back and gave another tug at the sheet. “It’s almost a month now, Beth,” she said. “I need to work out more and this is a great way to get into shape using only your own body weight,” she explained and waved a hand at her. “Come, up. I’ll show you.”

Giving the swing a look, Beth shook her head agitated. “Noooo….”

Amanda laughed. “C’mon, Bethy, listen to your instructor,” she told the girl. “You need to get into shape, too.”

After her talk with Rick, Amanda had started training Beth, Joan, and Noah, and a couple of more people from D Block since last week, but Beth was so skinny Amanda wasn’t liking it.

Not that Amanda stopped of course. Beth bemoaned a couple of times she couldn’t sleep the whole night from muscle pain when they started their training course, and Amanda smiled, telling her she wouldn’t have done her job correctly if the girl _could_. Amanda was just surprised the girl didn’t cry. She _had_.

Getting into shape usually went along with a “no pain, no gain” mantra so Amanda told that to Beth, too, that she’d spent months _crying_ from muscle pain. The first time Amanda saw Beth and Noah holding a gun so—so—so very badly, she almost fainted, realizing that their escape from Grady had been a real miracle. That realization also brought the simple fact: before anything else, her…cadets needed to gain body posture and muscle strength.

Joan wasn’t that bad. She at least held the gun _as if_ she looked like she _knew_ what she was doing, even though she did it all wrong, her stance wrong, her grip too tight, her arm too strained, the positioning on the bad angle, but at least the former nurse was holding the frame.

Amanda had discovered long ago most of the time fighting actually got done, as those so-called pick-up artists words, by controlling the frame. Because the easiest way to win a fight was actually not to _get_ into one.

If you managed to send off the right message, usually most of it consisting of cool, stern stares and measuring looks, looking all badass. And for that end result, Amanda also discovered it was good to develop the “fake it until you make it” routine and with their harsh environment but so little time, that strategy was their best place to start.

So, Amanda decided first to teach them how to _fake_ it, then the making it part was going to follow, with lots of practice.

As usual, practice made everything better. So she hoped soon her little cadets could be some real sonsofbitches that sent off the right kind of the message; _don’t fuck with me. I might go down_ _in_ _the end, but I’ll be taking you with me._

She wished there were only rotters out there to get worried about, but people needed more than just shooting exercises.

And it was going good even for just a week. They started getting into the right stances with the gun at least with relative ease and started holding the damn thing as if it was an extension of themselves, not just a thing they didn’t know what to do with.

Amanda was aware it was going to take a while, a _good_ _, long_ while. She wasn’t expecting any miracles, but they were working on it, so it was a start.

She’d also begun with a class with the kids, more than anything to teach them how to move around and keep their calm during a crisis. Expecting them to fight was still too much to ask, but the children who were older than ten started shooting exercises, like Carl had done before.

Amanda planned the back field where she and Rick had their…talk as the training field for an obstacle course, with racing and parkour. It wasn’t finished by any means, but they’d already dug pits and put up obstacles from the wooden fences, so it was coming around. She estimated by the end of the month, she would get it done, and start the real training. She prepared a wooden dummy for knife lessons to teach how to deal with blades, and also started shooting lessons, mostly using silencers not to draw more of the dead or shooting without bullets just to get them familiar with guns. When the parkour course was finished, they would start targeting on the move and the other drills.

She still knew it wasn’t the same thing. They needed to go out. These kinds of practices and drills, even though they were necessary, were only a small part of the training. They _needed to_ see the real deal, feel the panic, dread, must know how panic and fear freeze the body, cloud judgement, make your palms sweat, and your body tremble. Shooting from a safe distance, attacking a wooden dummy, or hopping over a ditch when you knew you were safe and secure behind the walls was nothing against the reality.

Yet, it was a start.

They hadn’t had an accident for twenty-five days. Her rookies were getting into shape, learning how to build a stance and muscle memory. Kids were listening to her about how to keep their cool in turmoil, and they hadn’t seen any dead animals since last week.

Perhaps whoever that lunatic might be…perhaps he just got his shit back together.

Her wound was better, too. She managed to hold a full handstand for three seconds on her own two days ago, and last night, she dined together with all Greene family on Beth’s request and had a very nice time.

They even actually prayed before dinner, _holding hands._ So Amanda did it, too, bowing her head, one hand clasped in Beth’s, the other in Maggie’s, and felt…felt like she honestly didn’t know. It just felt…nice.

She wondered that night in her cell before she went to sleep how it would’ve really been growing up in a family like that, having a father like Hershel Greene, growing up on a farm. She pictured herself in daisy dukes with a cowboy hat and cowboy boots, a plaid shirt tied up at her waist, and giggled herself to sleep. In her sleep, there was Rick and Judith again, but this time there were a few additions, too. They were _all_ on a farm; Rick, her, Carl, Judith, all of them, having dinner on the porch. Rick was bouncing the baby girl on his knees as Amanda brought the cheesy beef and sweet potato casserole she cooked to the table.

When she woke up in the middle of night, she heard Rick again, two cells away from her, trying to soothe a crying Judith. She just lay in the bed, staring at the bottom of the top bunk, listening to them.

At dawn, she left the cell after he was already gone and ran—ran—ran—then found him for their morning patrol; two cops on a patrol, professionals, perfectly labelled behind the safe, sterile etiquettes.

 _Fake it ‘til_ _you_ _make it_ , Amanda told herself that morning, greeting him with a simple hey like they usually did.

After all, she was always great at controlling any frame.

She gave another tug at her swing and sat on it. She swung back and forth for a couple of times to test it, her bare feet not touching at the floor, then turned to Beth.

“Come on,” she called out to the girl again. “Look, I’m not falling or anything. If it holds me, it certainly will hold you, too.”

To prove her point, Amanda leaned backwards and twirled her legs in two smooth moves to twist herself into an infinity seat. She pulled herself up clutching the swing’s sides and stayed suspended in the air, sheet between her inner thighs holding her into the position. It hurt more than elastic bands, and she knew the sturdy material of the sheet was going to leave bruises, but like Amanda knew since she was a little girl; beggars couldn’t be choosers. It was going to have to do it until she went to her first supply run and found herself some wide resistance bands.

Beth stared at her as she swung in the air aimlessly back and forth. “See?”

“ _How_ did you do it?” the girl asked and let out a laugh.

“With a lot of practice,” Amanda said with a shrug, still swinging in the air— “Lots of it.”

She untangled herself from the swing and called Beth again. “Up, lazyass. Don’t worry, I’m gonna show you something simpler.”

Beth stood up, giving her another suspicious look. “Yeah, what?”

“Oh, nothing—” she said airily. “Just gon’ hang you upside down by your ankles.”

“What?”

She pulled back from the swing. “Beth, please trust me. You’re gonna love it.”

Beth sighed, and Amanda turned and checked the curtain again to see if it was securely closed. Beth gave her an arched eyebrow this time.

“Well, better Maggie does not see it,” she said with another shrug, giving the girl a half grin.

“Okay. I feel much better now.”

Amanda ignored the jab. “Take off your boots and stand on the swing—” she instructed instead. “I’m gonna hold you.”

Beth did, climbed on the swing and stayed put, holding the sides. Twisting her head aside, she looked at Amanda. “What am I gonna do?”

“Push your knees and try to climb up with the swing,” she instructed again. “Go up as far as you can. I’m gonna push you up if you can’t.”

Beth started doing as she was told and actually managed to climb up with the swing. She might be lacking muscles, but she was still agile. Amanda nodded satisfied, holding her hips delicately in case she started slipping down.

“Good, very good, Beth,” she complimented. “Just a bit higher. Now, widen your legs as much as you can, but don’t lose the sheet from the soles of your feet. It needs to stay there so you can tuck it around your ankles later.”

Beth gave her another side look, holding on the swing’s sides tightly. “Yeah?” the girl breathed out laboriously. “Like this?”

“Hmm mm…” Amanda nodded and placed the sheet under her feet better. “Widen your legs just a bit more. A’right. Very good. Stay there. Now start lowering yourself slowly backwards like you’re doing squats with your whole body. So slowly—and slide your hands down too—” Beth started doing the move. Amanda warned, holding the girl as she glided in the air, “Slowly. Very nice. See the sheet, it’s started wrapping around your ankles—” Amanda showed, as Beth crouched in the air, the loose part started lowering at the top of her head. “Now hold up the loose part between your legs with one hand—”

“Oh-my-god—” Beth breathed out, “Oh-my-god! Gon’ fall down—”

“No—” Amanda said, holding her as she completely tucked in the air. “I’m holding you—don’t worry. Just let go with one hand and grab the loose sheet between your legs, then we’ll let it go.”

“No no—”

“Beth, let go, dear. I’m holding you.”

Then she did, let go with one hand and grabbed the loose sheet, and Amanda held the girl as her weight dropped in the air fully and the sheets around her feet tightened completely around her ankles. She turned upside down and stayed suspended in the air hanging by her ankles.

“Whooaa—” Beth almost screamed, letting her other hand go, too— “Wow!”

Amanda laughed out loud. “Told you you were gonna love it!”

“I mean—wow—” she said, swinging back and forth, her hair brushing the floor as her fingertips… “Ha ha…” she laughed, her eyes finding Amanda’s as her face reddened with blood rushing down. “Wow…”

At that second, Carl walked into her cell, too. “Beth—! Is everything—" the young teenager started, then stopped at seeing Beth. “What are you doing!”

Beth laughed, still swinging back and forth, pushing one hand towards her friend. “I’m hanging upside down, Carl.”

His eyes widening, Carl turned to Amanda. “Can I do it, too?”

Amanda thought about it a second or so, then nodded eagerly. “All right,” she agreed. “Let’s get Beth out of it first, then you try.”

She twisted Beth out of the sheets and turned her right side up. She untangled the girl, pulling her down. Beth laughed, pushing her feet out of the swing. Amanda turned to Carl. “Take off your boots. You need to be in bare feet.”

Carl nodded and took them off. To Amanda’s shock, she saw well-trimmed toenails and felt glad for a second. She waved at the teenager. She walked him through the act like she’d done with Beth, only quicker as Carl was younger and a bit more—daunting than Beth.

In less than a minute, Carl was hanging upside down in the air, too, swinging back and forth with a loud, “WOW!”

“Shhs—” Amanda hushed the boy. “I don’t want your dad bust our—”

Before she could finish, as if she’d summoned him, the curtain to her cell opened, and Amanda heard Rick's voice behind her. “Amanda, what’s—” He stopped in mid-sentence, then yelled. “CARL! _What_ the hell are ya doing?”

“Hey—dad—” the boy gave his dad a wave and grin, throwing his head back to find him. “Amanda hung me upside down by my feet.”

She looked at the teenager with widened eyes, then turned to Rick. She shook her head, waving her arm. “H-he _asked_ for it.”

With a sigh, Rick shook his head. “You know what,” he said and started walking away. “I don’t even want to know.”

As he stepped out of her cell, Amanda grinned behind his back.

It didn’t take long after that for the news that there was a new kind of _excitement_ in C Block to reach the kids in D Block, and before she knew what was happening, Amanda found herself surrounded by eight or so kids, all demanding to get hung upside down by their feet.

Getting crowded in the small cell, Amanda took the swing from the hooks at the ceiling and led her flock out.

If they did something, they might as well do it properly.

As her eyes scanned the area, Amanda saw the tree she’d first sat down and cried under when Beth had fallen sick. Her mind getting determined, she marched toward it, her flock following her behind dutifully. She made the hammock swing from one of the thick branches.

Then she hung every kid upside down by their feet as they cried out and laughed happily. Amanda laughed along with them, too, truly feeling happy—perhaps the first time after a long, long time, just playing with kids—as if…as if they still lived in a normal world, as if kids still could be just kids, still be happy.

Her eyes drew around for a second as she lowered down one of the girls; the tallest of the girls, one of Carol’s former wards, Lizzie. The girl always had a cool and factual exterior with a bit of sadness and a quick mind—too quick and sharp for a twelve-year-old, Amanda noticed from their class. The twelve-year-old was laughing loudly now, that sadness nowhere as she swung back and forth suspended in the air upside down, just how children should be.

Amanda laughed, happiness bursting in her insides, seeing the girl like this, it—it made her happy. Across the field, she picked up Rick at his own part of the grounds, inside his field, looking at them, and even from afar, she could sense his gaze on them—on _her_ …

Her heartbeat fastened, and before she could remind herself partners again, her lips pulled into a smile. Rick smiled at her back for a second before he returned to his job.

Her smile growing further, Amanda bowed her head just as Lizzie shouted at her sister. “Mika!” The young girl gave a swing in the air. “Look at me!”

Mika—the younger one was a bit less brave than her sister, so she was still waiting to gather her courage. Amanda turned and called out to the younger girl. “C’mon, Mika. It’s your turn now.”

Amanda turned the older sister upright and untangled her. Mika gave the swing a worried look. Beth laughed beside them. “Don’t worry, Mika. I was just like you, too. It’s great fun.”

Amanda dropped Lizzie on the ground, releasing her ankles, and crouched between the girls’ feet. “It was sooo good, Mika—” Lizzie said, and then suddenly that placid sadness came to her again. “I wish Nick could’ve played with us, too.”

From where she knelt, her eyes flickered up at the girl, her hands at the girl’s ankles. Mika didn’t say anything. Amanda…felt sad, thinking the friend they’d possibly lost—like everyone else.

Amanda drew back a little and leaned forward to give a little brush of a kiss on the girl’s head. She then stood up fully and held her hand out to Mika.

# # #

That night Rick dreamed of her playing with kids in a park.

Just that, them playing, laughing and smiling, then suddenly they were alone at dawn, just two of them under a tree, and she was under him writhing, her naked body wrapped all round him as Rick stroked himself in and out of her slowly. He arched himself on his hands to see her better, still moving in her depths in a leisurely rhythm, the newly risen sun casting a golden halo around her head… beautiful, so beautiful.

When Rick dived and kissed her, he tasted grass, earth, and pancakes on her lips. 

# # #

Two nights later, she woke up from her sleep in the middle of night, soft baby cries in her ears, even though there were no dreams.

Gazing at the bottom of the top bunk, Amanda wondered if she’d developed a sixth sense or something for the baby girl’s cries.

And—the baby…the baby wasn’t just stopping crying. Apparently, she had a temper as bad as her dad. The thought made her smile in the bed. Amanda wondered if she was just being a baby or had started cutting teeth. Judith was around seven or so months and had also started crawling around, so it was time for that, too.

She debated with herself laying in the bed, an urge so strong to go to Rick and take the baby. The baby—the baby was just crying so much— _she_ couldn’t sleep. It was nothing to do with _him_.

She just wanted to sleep.

 _Nothing_ to do with him.

Yet, partners could hardly go to each other’s room in the middle of the night to calm their babies into sleep—not _professional_ a damn bit.

So, like a ghost, her feet bare, Amanda moved out of her cell and crossed the hall to Beth’s. It was just good that Beth’s cell was at the other side, so Amanda slipped inside like a silent cat, and held the girl’s shoulders and shook her a bit, putting her hand over Beth’s mouth.

Beth’s wide blue eyes grew even wider seeing her. Amanda pulled her hand away. “Amanda—what are you doing here?”

She shook her head. “It’s Judith. She doesn’t stop crying,” she whispered and watched Beth give her a long look.

“Go and take her,” she muttered at the girl. “I’ll calm her down.”

“Why don’t you go yourself?”

“I _can’t_ —” she breathed with a huff. “It’s not appropriate. It’s…it’s like I’m using her to…to…you know—” she trailed off as Beth stared at her again sleepily. “Just go get her.” Another look from the girl, and Amanda sighed. “She needs to go back to sleep. _I_ can’t sleep.”

Then the young girl let out a small, silent laugh, stood up from the bed, and left her cell.

A few minutes later, she came back—with Judith, still crying, in her arms.

Amanda took the baby from her and slowly hushed her into sleep, holding her at her bosom—breathing her baby smell in—so pure, so…innocent. The baby slowly fell asleep, and giving her back to Beth, who was still half asleep on her feet, Amanda watched her bring the baby back to her father, where she belonged.

She left Beth’s cell after then and went back to her own. She lay down in _silence_ …no more baby cries, yet she stayed awake almost all night before she finally dozed off just around dawn.

Then she stood up, went to her board, and took the white chalk.

She wiped out the last number and put a seven and looked at it. Twenty-seven.

She’d had worse nights.

# # #

Two days later, they went to their first run together.

Amanda looked at the board, twenty-nine, and almost asked them to wait for a couple of days more, _almost_ begged, but her tongue couldn’t have said the words.

She decided to take Joan, too, as her most capable rookie. There was disappointment in Beth’s eyes when she told the girl.

“Beth,” she remarked with a sigh before they left for the mall Daryl had scouted a week ago with Sasha. “Don’t look like that, please—”

“Why can’t I come?” Beth asked crisply.

“You know. I explained,” she replied calmly, trying to make her understand. “We can’t take two rookies at the same time. It’s too risky, and Joan—Joan’s simply better than you.” Beth made a face. Amanda shook her head. “This is not a competition, Beth. Your time will come too. Don’t be in haste.”

The girl let out a sigh, then. “I know,” she accepted. “I—I just—I guess I’m a bit bored being on the sidelines.” Another sigh followed— “I—I wish I could just change. Be like you or Maggie…”

Amanda shook her head. “Change—it isn’t a light switch, Beth, doesn’t happen overnight,” she said. “Don’t be hard on yourself. And you’re already changing. You now look quite kickass holding a gun.”

Beth snorted in answer, and Amanda could swear it was one of those changes, too, perhaps something Beth had picked up from _her_. Amanda felt…happy with it, somehow… “Besides, remember what I said before about being bored?” she asked the teenager with a smile.

“We’re lucky to have a chance to be bored,” Beth muttered, giving in, bowing her head.

Amanda nodded. “Exactly.”

So, they left: Rick, her, Sasha, Daryl, Glenn and Maggie, and their newest recruit, Joan.

During the whole trip, Amanda was so tense she felt she could snap in two at any moment, her blackboard in her mind. “Hey,” Rick asked as they arrived and were about to go in, falling behind in the line to come to her side. “Ya okay?”

A little bit late to ask now… She nodded briskly. “Yeah…just having jitters—”

“For what?” he asked, his brows knitting together. “You must have done this now like a million times.”

She shrugged. “Doing it with you guys for the first time.”

“We cleared out the warehouse together,” he reminded her.

“That doesn’t count. That was still my turf.”

He gave her a look. “Amanda—”

She let out a sigh as they walked carefully into the mall’s parking lot, looking for any trouble, dead or alive. “I—It’s twenty-nine, you know,” she told him then and twisted aside before she finished. “Perhaps—perhaps we should wait two or more days.”

Pulling a full stop at the back of their cortege, his hand touched her chin lightly, so lightly it was just a brush across her skin. He turned her head towards him. “Amanda, you’ll have the thirty tomorrow morning,” he whispered to her. “I promise.”

Swallowing over a lump in her throat, she nodded wordlessly before he picked up his pace and walked back to the head of the group, taking point.

Dutifully falling in beside Joan, Amanda followed.

# # #

At the end, Amanda understood, Rick Grimes was good on his promises.

They all returned before the dark, all counted for, and alive.

Walking across the prison’s wide lawn toward the blocks, she watched Glenn and Maggie staggering along in each other’s arms, laughing and all smiles. Glenn pulled the tall woman closer, his other arm wrapped around her waist. He placed a kiss on the side of his wife’s neck. As Maggie came willingly, Amanda heard her giggle. They—they looked happy, so happy together. Turning her eyes away, Amanda quickened her pace to pass them.

At night, she brought Beth a Payday bar she’d found in the mall. She sat on the bottom bunk as the girl opened the package and shoved it into her mouth. “You—you’re not saving it?”

Her mouth full, Beth shook her head. “Nope. I don’t do waiting anymore,” the teenager said and gave her a half grin. “Life’s too short.”

Recognizing her own words, Amanda smiled at the teenager. “Beth, you know—sometimes I wish I could change too, be someone else…be someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Beth asked, munching the junk food. “Really?” she sounded almost surprised.

“Yeah—”

“Well, I think you’re already changing—” Beth said after a second, giving her a look.

Amanda held it, and mimicked her question. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yup,” the girl said, bobbing her head, still munching her confection. “Besides change isn't a light switch, doesn’t happen overnight. Don’t be hard on yourself, Amanda.”

Amanda shook her head, turning to leave the cell. “Smartass.”

The next morning, she woke up and finally put the thirty on the board.

She looked at it, swallowing hard, and left for the bathroom beside the laundry room.

Inside, she looked into the tinted, darkened mirror that hung on the ceramic tiles on the wall, the air cool and stark inside, stark and pungent with the usual bad smells of body waste and sweat and all the other stuff.

Amanda looked at her reflection, looked at her basic white tee she’d borrowed from Glenn, no sight of APD’s sigil on her chest. She released her bun, passed her fingers through her caked locks. She couldn’t take daily showers now like she used to do like at Grady. She was dirty, too, spots of dirt over her cheeks from the run—last night she’d gone to sleep without cleaning herself like the rest of them—

 _You are already changing…_ Beth’s words echoed in her mind.

Was she?

She didn’t know.

She shook her head, started gathering her hair up to twist it into a bun, then in the middle of the act, she suddenly stopped. Her eyes caught on her reflection again, Amanda looked into the mirror…

And she felt the whole world stop with her, frozen in a moment, hanging on for a second, holding its breath—and she must’ve stopped breathing for a second, too—she must have. Then, her eyes taking a stern glint, she let one hand go, drew her knife, and pulling her hair aside over her shoulder, she cut it off with one swift motion.

Dropping her arms to her sides, she looked at herself in the mirror, at the woman whose dirty, caked light brown locks barely touched her shoulders, and she smiled.

Yes, change didn’t happen overnight, but it _was_ a start.

Throwing away her cut off hair, Amanda walked out.

It was going to be a good day.

Thirty days without an accident.

Her smile still on her lips, she walked back to her cell to change her clothes for a run. She didn’t think anything, she—she just wanted to live…in the moment; she always thought, always over analyzed, always…feared.

It was going to be a good day. Sun was up, the weather was warm. And she felt lighter, her head felt lighter…as if…as if she—she had unburdened herself from something, but she didn’t want to think about it anymore, either.

She just wanted to go out and run…feel the wind brushing over her hair—her untied, cut off hair.

She kept walking, her eyes wandering around. She saw the kids had put new drawings on the walls. She halted a little to look at them, children drawing pictures, being happy—laughing and smiling—how they were supposed to… Then her eyes fell on the last drawing…

…Amanda stopped dead in her tracks. Something…collapsed…inside her, _on_ her, and the world returned to the way it usually was.

The usual shitload of crap.

In one of the drawings, there was a crude version of the prison and fence, and people at one side, and rotters at the other side, their faces falling, red paint coming out of the mouths. One of those rotters was named with red paint—big letters and such—Nick.

_I wish Nick could’ve played with us._

Her eyes hurting, she rested her forehead against the cool wall beside the picture and hit her head on the wall. She was fucking—fucking hating it!

Pulling back, she tore the picture off the wall, and started looking for Rick.

# # #

_“Rick!”_

Bent down digging, Rick heard the familiar clear tones ringing in the air… and turned aside to look at the owner of the voice. He knew too well, a bit agitated sensing the urgency in it…then he stared.

Clad in her combat pants and white basic tee, not in sports attire she usually wore in the morning for her workout, Amanda was running toward him across the grass, her light brown curls brushing across her shoulders…her hair split toward left side of her head floating in the air as she ran, holding something in her hand…

His eyes struck, Rick stared at her—beautiful—so beautiful, aside that she looked utterly panicked out of her mind.

She stopped out of her breath, grabbing the picket fence, heaving out laboriously as she bowed her head— “Amanda, what happened!” he asked, leaning over her against the fence. “Your hair—”

She shook her head, loose hair swinging in the air with motion, the end of her locks brushing over her shoulders… “Forget my hair!” she snapped, and raised her hand in the air to show him what she was holding in her hand.

“What’s that?”

“That’s—that’s y-your latest problem, Rick—” she answered, her words still breathless. “I—I f-found who’s feeding rotters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I always wanted to make Amanda cutting her hair, you know-it's just such a classic (not to mention cliche) way to have a change for yourself (I used to cut or dye my hair every time I broke up with a boy, lol) and her bun meant a lot for Amanda, so this happened-at the very end that she felt ready for a change, she figured out Lizzie too-at the 30th day. Because otherwise, it would've been so happy, god forbid! He he.
> 
> I wanted to pass these days as quick as possible too, as Rick and Amanda keep their distance from each other, labeling themselves, as Amanda have more of a rapport with the Greenes, kids, and her...cadets, and such, so they wouldn't have gotten so close, either. I wanted that swing as a more bizarre thing, too, because just a basic swing wouldn't have had the same effect-hanging the kids upside down in their ankles, that's Amanda. :)
> 
> Controlling the frame is a tactic from PUA, and the infamous "fake it until you make it", which kinda works too. In reality, it's a version of Alfred Adler's "acting as if" therapy technique. It doesn't usually solve the root problems, as cognitive behavioral therapy doesn't aim to do that, I think, you *still* need to go back to your childhood to solve them, lol, but it keeps you functioning well enough. And Amanda is sma  
> rt enough to get a sense of it. She didn't pass her time in libraries reading romance novels, he he.  
> Like always, please let me know what you think! Boring, good, nice, too bad words cannot describe? Ha ha :D


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, this chapter's gonna touch some touchy issues, so, please be warned. Nothing more than the show actually covered, but here's your official warning.

**XXI.**

Sitting around the table in the library, the council passed the picture hand to hand. “Amanda found it this morning—” Rick explained as she sat closest to his post at the table while Rick was standing up in the room like he usually did. “She believes Lizzie drew it.”

Sasha lifted her head from the picture as she gave it to Daryl, and twisting aside, asked directly to Amanda. “How do you know?”

Her voice was cool, almost cold. Even though Sasha didn’t hold Amanda responsible for Tyreese’s death, she was still pointedly distant. Given the circumstances, Rick thought it was understandable. Amanda had also never made a complaint, only took it with silent acceptance.

His eyes moved to her, the ends of her hair still gently licking over her shoulders, parted over her left side. She almost looked like another woman again, so much that even with the obvious problem in front of them, Rick couldn’t help himself but question why; why had she done it? She’d gone to bed yesterday still with her bun. Last night, Rick had seen her leaving Beth’s cell and entering into hers, two cells away.

The next he saw her in the morning, running toward him like mad, her loose hair swinging—suddenly the realization hit him.

Goddammit!

When he’d become this slow?!

She must’ve cut it this morning. Before she’d found the picture, on the morning of the 30th day. This—today meant something to her, Rick knew it, knew it since when she’d told him she hoped to see up to thirty.

She was emotional that way, hiding it behind a brash, indifferent exterior like Daryl did, but secretly keeping a tally in her cell using the blackboard Rick had given her.

He recalled how she was two days ago; how anxious she looked—then her confession she wished they could’ve waited a bit more, then on the very day of her thirty, she showed up after cutting her hair, then this happened.

A little girl—a little _orphan_ girl losing it enough to start feeding walkers.

Rick suddenly felt he needed to keep her out of this. This…might cut too close for her. Though, he had no idea how to say it. It felt like they were stuck into a limbo now. Each day they did the same drill, make a patrol together in the morning after her run, then keep themselves clear of each other dutifully.

They needed distance to cool things off. They needed time, despite both of them not wanting to get involved further…romantically, that thing between them was still there. And it wasn’t going to go away in one night, either. It was going to take time—possibly more dreams for him, too, but at least they’d turned more…carnal as he usually ended up dreaming having sex with her, so Rick supposed it was going _well_.

Until this morning, at least.

“A couple of days ago—” Amanda started explaining. “I was playing with the kids. We made a swing, and they were swinging. They were having…fun…"

That was mildly to put what she’d done for the kids. Rick could still remember how kids looked that morning, the way they laughed happily, even Carl, and how _she_ looked too, happy…

“She said she wished Nick could’ve played with them, too,” Amanda continued. “She—she was sad telling it. I thought it was a friend she’d lost.” She paused. “Perhaps it’s what happened, too. What I thought first. Perhaps she lost a friend, and a walker outside the fences reminded her of him. I don’t know.”

“So she started feedin’ them?” Daryl asked, darting her a look.

“She also lost her father,” Hershel supplied. “Her only relative, and Carol’s gone, too. It might cause trauma for her.”

But Rick shook his head. “This—this’s started before the attack in the D—” he countered. “No.”

“We’re not sure of the timeline,” Sasha argued.

“Either way,” Amanda cut in. “We need to talk to her,” she stated placidly. “She _knows_ she does something she shouldn’t. She’s smart, stopped or changed the location when she understood she got caught,” she pointed out and paused before she declared. “And there’s—there’s also the way she did it.”

Glenn looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“The animals…the rats… she doesn’t only feed rotters. They were cut open, too, so they’d be more of a feast. Butchered animals by children.” She halted, swallowing. “It’s—it’s never good news.”

“We don’t know that for sure, either—” Glenn replied. “Perhaps walkers did it.”

Rick turned to Glenn. “No,” he objected, recalling the dead animals. “Walkers rip off parts with teeth. The rats were cut open by a blade. What’s left of the wounds was too precise.”

“Either way,” Amanda interjected in the same way. “We _need_ _to_ talk to her. Dr. Greene is right. She—she must be triggered by some trauma, and I’m not liking the smell of this.” She halted again, her eyes turning away from them. “Perhaps—perhaps something happened. T-they don’t have anyone anymore. Practically, they take care of themselves.” She let out a small breath and swallowed low before she completed. “Someone—someone might’ve started taking advantage of that.”

There was a brief pause in the room after her declaration as each tried to digest what she stated. Rick felt—sick…knowing what she said could be true. After he’d sent Carol away, the sisters had started fending off themselves. They were protecting them, trying to look after them, keeping them safe but—but it wasn’t the same thing.

But any—any of them would do something like that? The easy answer was no, but Rick was a cop. He’d seen what even seemingly _normal_ people were capable of even before the turn. And, now… now everything was more fucked up. His chest tightened. His throat was so dry it hurt to breathe, and the way Amanda declared that possibility made his stomach churn… 

Looking at her, Glenn slowly asked, “As in…” but he trailed off, couldn’t even finish his sentence.

But he didn’t have to. “Yes,” Amanda confirmed, still trying to keep her voice calm, but failing. There was a timber in it that made it waver. “We—we have to...think of each possibility.”

She cleared her throat and straightened her back as if to steel her spine before she continued. “The girls are too exposed now. If someone started having ideas, they’re the easiest options.” She shook her head and murmured bitterly, “I _should’ve_ thought about it before.”

Rick felt the tightness in his chest grow even worse after that, but over the others’ faces there was still an aghast expression, except Hershel who looked as perturbed and wary as Amanda.

“Y-you say there might be a child molester among us?” Sasha asked, astonished.

Unfazed, Amanda only gave a nod. “There _might_. We don’t know. What we know is a twelve year old girl has started naming rotters and fed them with dead, butchered rats. We need to talk to them. Both of them.”

Sasha looked at her again. “Can you—can you do it?”

She nodded. “Someone has to—” she replied, bowing her head. “I guess I’m the best one equipped for it.”

All eyes turned on her again after her declaration as she just kept looking at the floor. Rick thought perhaps it really would be better if she stayed out of this. He opened his mouth but before he told them he was going to talk with the girls, Glenn asked, “Did you—did you do something like this before?”

She let out a sigh, shaking her head before she raised it. “No. Not really—” She stood up. “Not as the questioner, anyways.”

She left the room then without another word.

Quickly, Rick followed and caught her in the corridor before she slipped away somewhere. Rick had gotten wiser into her gig. When she got distressed, she had a way of disappearing, usually to hide herself somewhere, but Rick wasn’t going to let her do it this time. Not with this. No.

This—she—she _shouldn’t_ do it.

Then Rick felt it, deep inside him. He felt like he was failing her, even though the thought was absurd, the feeling was there, impossible to…unfeel. Instead of this, she should’ve enjoyed her new look, hang out with Beth, train her people… They made her happy. He—he wanted her to be happy. Not—not like this. He wanted her to play with kids, not question them if someone were hurting them.

This was going to cut deep. He _knew_.

The other possibilities—speculations were there, too, in the darkest corners of his mind, but he didn’t even want to think on them…

“Amanda—” he called out to her as she kept walking, knowing she’d already realized he was following, and still didn’t stop. “Amanda, wait. I—I want to talk.”

She stopped then, letting out a big breath, and turned to him. “Rick—I _really_ don’t want to talk right now. Just let it go, okay?” she said. “I—I can’t do it.”

Understanding, he nodded. “I—I just wanted to say if you don’t feel comfortable with it, you can sit this one out.” He looked at her, getting a step closer. “I’ll handle it.”

She didn’t even hesitate a second. “No,” she declined firmly. “If—if something _really_ happened, you’d only get them more anxious. It gotta be me. Dr. Greene can come. _You_ can come, too,” she continued. “But I’ll do the talking.”

For a moment, Rick still thought to oppose, but there was that look in her eyes too, the sheer determination. He couldn’t keep her away from it. “Okay. If you want to—” he told her then. “I just wanted you to know—”

She cut him off, “I know. Thank you. But it’s okay. You don’t need to worry.”

Giving her another look, he slowly nodded. “Okay.”

They stayed in silence for a second before Rick slowly started turning, feeling he should leave now to give her a moment, but before he completed the turn, she called out to him this time. “Rick—”

Rick turned back and looked at her. “I—I was lucky. Nothing happened to me,” she remarked in a small voice. “If—if you—” she paused, as if she didn’t know how to continue, and stopped there.

Feeling something lifting off his chest, he nodded…because he was—he _was_ worrying—in the back of his mind—thoughts, speculations clawing at him… he felt…relieved. God, he felt so much relief…

“Thank ya,” he slowly whispered, even though he had no idea why he said it, but felt he _had to_ say something, but words felt so…inappropriate… _Thank you for assuring me that you weren’t abused as a child, Amanda…_

Giving him a side look, Amanda nodded silently before she turned to walk away.

This time, Rick let her.

# # #

As she sat at the table in the library again, the end of her hair brushed over the thin fabric of her basic white tee again, and Amanda felt annoyed—felt…regret…felt—goddammit!

She really— _really_ didn’t want to do this.

She took out her brown hair tie she’d tucked inside her pocket after she’d cut off her hair and made a little ponytail at the back of her neck.

She couldn’t make it into a bun anymore, but this would work too…

God, she really didn’t want to do this. But as she’d told Rick, it had to be her. There was no one else. She wouldn’t let a twelve year old girl suffer like this. It was going to be hard. She could at least make it a bit better for the girl. She _knew_ how that felt, answering those questions, feeling scared and shamed, feeling something wrong even though you didn’t fully understand.

She—she really wished she was wrong on this, and it was just—just what? A twelve year old girl feeding rotters with dead butchered rats… God!

She was fucking hating it!

Butchered animals, dissected… She’d seen that before once in one of the homes. The animals…the kittens…rats…frogs… They’d started finding them around, someone killing them in the worst possible ways. Soon one of the boys got caught. Amanda still could remember the fuss it started, the social workers and officers from Special Victims Units filling in their foster home, countless, countless of them, questioning them for hours. In the end they’d never seen the boy again, only heard that their friend was sent to a special school for kids like him.

They never learned what had exactly happened, but now Amanda had a good guess.

And, all of it was making her insides twist terribly—what…what…they were going to do if something like that was happening? How—how could they deal with such a thing?

With a twelve year old girl with psychopathic tendencies.

No one was prepared for it.

Not to mention if there was a child molester among them, too. She recalled their shocked faces when she’d voiced that possibility, taking it with such shock… _still_ so much naivety.

There were only Rick and Dr. Hershel in the room now as the other council members, Sasha and Glenn had left. They weren’t talking to each other, either, each lost to their own thoughts.

Rick had given her a look as she’d tied her hair behind her neck, which Amanda had chosen to ignore. She honestly couldn’t deal with him right now.

He was worried about her, she could tell, giving her those quick but intense glances, and their talk in the corridor. He—he was worried. He cared for her. Amanda knew, just as the same way she cared for him. Even though they both didn’t want to pursue anything more, they still felt it. So, Amanda wanted to tell him—because she knew, she’d _felt_ it, felt his worry, so she told him…. _I was lucky. Nothing happened to me._

There. _No one raped me or anything, stop worry_ _ing_ _!_ No. Nothing had happened to her. She—she’d just watched it happen to other people, wondering— _fearing_ when it was going to be her turn, when her luck would run out.

Story of her life in a nutshell.

Her hand briefly touched at her stomach, where Gorman had shot her…

She let out a small sigh, bowing her head, and caught Rick flicking her another look, and ignored it again. It was a dance they’d perfected over the month, and Amanda was getting tired of it… wishing for her old life back. It felt like the woman she’d felt she was this morning—that woman who was smiling at her reflection was altogether someone else… Not _her_.

She could never be that woman. How stupid was she to even think like that!

God, she never learned her lessons, _never_.

A few minutes later, Beth brought the girl. Lizzie stayed in front of them in the room, looking aloof but there was an anxiety in her too, Amanda could feel it.

“I’m waiting with Mika outside,” Beth said lowly. Amanda nodded, as she called out to the twelve year old. “Lizzie, please come, sit.”

She gestured at the chair she’d prepared specifically in front of her so she could be in clear, direct sight of the girl. Dr. Greene was sitting beside her, and Rick was standing in the corner a few feet away from them, keeping his distance.

Lizzie gave all of them a look, again a bit worried and glanced at Beth as the teenager left the room with her younger sister. She looked back at Amanda then and asked, “I—I’m in trouble?”

With question, Amanda realized this had happened before. The girl had been interviewed before.

She shook her head and pointed at the chair again. “No. We just want to ask you a few questions,” she answered with her best calm, serene professional voice she used to hear from the social workers during her own interviews. “Just a few questions. You’re _not_ in trouble,” she assured the girl. “You don’t need to feel scared or worried.”

Lizzie nodded hesitantly, skipping her eyes at Dr. Hershel and Rick. Seeing it, Amanda quickly added, “They can leave if you want,” she offered as Rick snapped his head to shoot her a look, which Amanda professionally ignored again.

Lizzie, though, gave a quick small head shake, sitting down. “No. It’s okay.”

She must be one of the tallest girls Amanda had ever seen, quite skinny, and pretty, very, _very_ pretty with her dark brown hair, ivory skin, and dark honey eyes. Her stomach twisting, Amanda studied her carefully as Lizzie sat down across from her, trying to pick up a sign, _any_ sign…

“When we played outside at the tree,” she said, starting with the same “social worker” voice, calming herself. “You said you wished Nick could’ve played with us. Who’s Nick? A friend of yours?”

Lizzie darted a look at her and nodded a little. “Yes.”

“From where?”

“He—he was my friend from our school—” the girl answered. “We used to play together.”

Amanda nodded and questioned further, “Do you miss him?”

Again, another nod. “Yes. He—he was nice to me—” she said. “I miss him.”

“It’s okay. We all miss our friends,” Amanda assured her again and asked, “Do you miss your father, too?”

A quick answer came, with darting eyes. “Yes,” the girl replied. “I miss him, too.”

Amanda shared a look with Rick and Dr. Hershel before she turned to the girl again. “Someone’s sleeping with you now?” she inquired.

Lizzie shook her head. “No. Mika and I sleep in our cell alone.”

Taking a slow breath, Amanda nodded. “Lizzie, I’m gonna ask you a few more questions, but I want you to be honest with me. There is _nothing_ you need to fear, nothing you need to worry or be ashamed about.” She stared at the girl directly in the eyes. “You can trust me.”

Lizzie nodded. “Does anyone come to your cell at night?”

She shook her head, “No.”

“Do you see anyone lingering outside?”

Another shake. Amanda continued, trying to keep her voice still serene and calm. “Does anyone make you feel uncomfortable with something?”

Lizzie shook her head, a bit more agitated. “Does anyone touch you in a way that feels wrong?” she pressed on. She just had to. There was no other way to go with that; you just sat down and answered the questions, wishing it were done as quickly as possible…but Lizzie was getting more anxious.

She shook her head heatedly. “No… Why do you ask me these questions?”

Amanda leaned over the table an inch. “We just need to know, Lizzie, that’s it. Please, be calm. You can tell me—”

“No! No! I want to go!” she screamed, jerking up to her feet.

And Amanda started really getting worried. She stood up, too, as Rick made a move, but she stopped him raising her hand as Dr. Hershel spoke beside him, “Lizzie. Amanda just wants to be sure you’re as safe as possible. We mean no harm, child.”

“I’m safe—I’m safe.” The girl said, shaking her head. “Let me go. I want to go.”

Walking over the table, Amanda hurriedly came to her side. She held the girl’s hand. “Lizzie, please, sit down. Be calm.”

But the girl was done. She started strangling on her breath, choking, her face getting flushed and perspired, her eyes widening. Amanda recognized the symptoms quick enough. A panic attack.

“Lizzie, look at me—” she ordered, lifting the girl’s head, holding it close. “Look at my eyes, listen to my voice.” The girl stared at her, Amanda took a deep breath. “Breathe deeply—” She ordered. “With me.”

She nodded as Lizzie followed her command along with her. “Yeah, like this slowly… one… two… three…” She walked her through the breath, then started giving it out slowly, Lizzie mimicked her again. “Again, breathe slowly…one…two…three…” They gave it out together, then another time.

When the girl calmed down, Amanda seated her again. “I want to look at flowers—” Lizzie slowly said. “I—used to look at flowers with Nick—” she murmured softly. “They were so beautiful, so bright…”

“There’re still daisies in the field—” Amanda told her, “Did you see them?" The girl nodded. “I can make you a tiara with them. A friend of mine taught me when I was about your age.”

Her breakdown suddenly vanished as if she weren’t the girl who had forgotten how to breathe seconds ago, and Lizzie nodded eagerly. “Really?”

Amanda nodded. “Yes. I can teach you how to do it, so you can teach your friends, too.”

The girl nodded. “Can you? Can you show me now?”

Well, fuck the social worker stance. It wasn’t working. “Yeah, sure.” She turned to Rick, lifting her head. “Rick, can you pick daisies for us?”

Rick gave her a long look, his look clearly telling her what his mouth wasn’t, and Amanda held it back in the same way. A few seconds later, he nodded and left the room.

They waited until Rick came back with a bunch of daisies. She took the flowers with a nod “Please, ask Beth to come in. And Mika, too—” she requested both men before she twisted to Lizzie. “Let’s do it together with the girls, Lizzie. You’d like that?”

Lizzie shrugged. “Yeah… They’re fine.”

Amanda nodded again, and turned to Rick and Dr. Hershel, looking at them pointedly. She wanted them out. Lizzie was getting much too anxious in their presence. Dr. Greene slowly stood up, understanding her wish, but Rick was still giving her one of those suspicious looks.

She stood up and walked them out.

Outside, she turned to Beth and Mika who were still out in the corridor. “Beth, take Mika inside,” she commanded the teenager. “I’m coming in a minute—” She handed daisies to Beth. “We’ll make daisy tiaras.”

Beth nodded, taking the daisies, and opened the door. After they vanished inside the room, and the door closed securely behind them, Amanda looked at Rick and the Greene family patriarch. “She is hiding something.”

“Amanda—are you sure this is a good idea?” The question came from Rick immediately.

Was she? Hell, no. She let out a small sigh. “I honestly don’t know,” she confessed. “But you saw how she lost it when I started real questioning. And I still haven’t showed her the picture yet. Let me talk to her in a more—friendly environment. This whole…interview thing makes her unsettled. She’s done it before, I’m sure of it.”

“How?” Hershel Greene asked.

She shrugged. “I _just_ do,” she countered. “It’s a…feeling.” There was no other word to describe it. It was just like a hunch, an intuition you developed, a sort of tingling _inside_ you, like an alarm… “That school she mentioned—” She continued. “I think it might not be a normal school.”

Giving her another look, Rick nodded, albeit still hesitantly, like he was still thinking it wasn’t a good idea. All in honesty, Amanda could hardly argue with that, but there was no other option as well.

Something was going on, and they had to learn what it was.

So, she gave them one last look and entered the library again.

# # #

Waiting outside the corridor in front of the library, Rick felt this day was going to be of those days; the worst of worsts…her damn 30th day, starting questioning little girls if they were abused under his roof—before his very eyes.

 _Does anyone touch you in a way_ _that_ _feels wrong?_

The question turned his stomach to stone, bile in his throat—and if someone really did it— _if_ anyone really touched the girls, Rick was going to—he was going to cut off the bastard’s dick and made him choke on it!

He had been out in the corridor for almost an hour now, and Hershel had left long ago. Rick couldn’t leave—couldn’t leave them alone…

 _Does anyone touch you in a way_ _that_ _feels wrong?_

The question froze the blood in his veins again. He _knew_ Amanda had answered those questions somewhere in her distant past, even though she was _lucky_ as she’d stated—and the anger was in him—for what—at whom he wasn’t even sure… He just felt angry and weary again…

He sighed, bowing his head, looking at the grey plaster walls, everything in life was grey now—dimly lit and grey, living in a prison to be safe.

It felt like a sick joke, but appropriate.

Their home.

He recalled his words to her two weeks ago in the laundry room… _This—this_ _is_ _what’s important. Our home. Us._

And as sick as it was, the words were still correct.

He picked a tear in his shirt. The worn out dark orange-brown plaid shirt was falling apart at the seams, literally. Rick stared at it… _This place—this place is what all matters to me…_

Rick hoped it wasn't coming apart like his shirt, too.

He’d been trying, god knew, he’d been trying…but if this happened—if what Amanda feared happened under his watch, too—his thoughts cut off as the door opened.

Beth emerged, herding both girls out, each of them having a daisy tiara over their heads.

Beth gave him a quick look. “Amanda’s waiting for you inside—” the younger Greene quickly informed him, as if she knew he would be waiting, and who was kidding? Of course, she knew.

He walked inside and saw her pulling her own tiara off her head, her hair pulled up into a ponytail—and it made him feel sadder—

Like a failure.

Again.

He tried to push the feeling away, but it was still there, like a constant, like his _only_ constant; no matter how much he tried, he _always_ found ways to fail people he cared about.

She looked tired too, trying to take the tiara off, but the flowers were catching in her hair. Amanda grimaced and yanked it off forcefully, annoyed—angry and weary, much like him, and threw it down on the table, muttering something under her breath.

She shook her head, staring ahead, then stood up and ran to the door, towards _him_.

Rick stared at her—suddenly frozen again, but she pushed him a bit away from the door, and opened it. She called for Beth. “Beth!” she yelled, pushing her upper torso through the crack of the door. “Will you call for Daryl, please?” she asked. “I need to talk to him.”

Leaning back over backward over the crack, Rick saw Beth nodding at her before Amanda closed the door. She walked back to the table and sat down again.

Rick stood up, hovering over her in silence. Amanda sighed out then lifted her head up. “Good thing—” she started. “She’s—they’re not abused. No. I don’t think that happened. So, we _should_ be happy at least.”

Rick felt the “but” in the words. “But...?”

“Well—the but part—” She leaned forward over the table and took the picture that was still laying over the surface. “I got her talk about it,” she started explaining. “Why she drew it…why she was feeding rotters.” Rick nodded. “She denies it, of course, but I think I got the idea,” she continued. “That school—Mika wasn’t going there. It was only Lizzie. And Nick. Nick was her friend from there.”

“What kind of school was that?” Rick asked, understanding something was really off, but before Amanda could answer Daryl walked into the room.

“Hey—ya asked for me?” the hunter asked.

Amanda nodded, turning to him. “Yes. We need to search the whole prison,” she said. “Look for dead animals, butchered, dissected. I’ve got an idea, but we need to be sure,” she remarked. “Can you do it?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

“Take Michonne and Sasha, too,” Rick said. “Check it as fast as you can.”

But at his words, this time Daryl gave a half shake. “Nah—I take Sasha. Hershel wanted to find some wild seeds in the woods. Maggie’s with Glenn. Michonne took him out.”

“All right,” Rick said. “You and Sasha. We’ll find you ASAP.”

With a nod, the tracker left, and Rick turned to Amanda. “You think—you think she does this to animals she finds?”

She nodded. “Remember what they always say about how serial killers start at a young age?” Amanda asked as Rick bowed his head, holding the bridge of his nose.

“By killing animals,” he muttered slowly and lifted his head to look back at her. “You think—you think she’s psychopathic?”

She looked as confused as he was as she shrugged her shoulders. “I—I don’t know. But when I asked how Nick and she used to play, she…she got weird. So I asked her if they used to play with animals…and she didn’t answer, got upset again. I calmed her, but I think yeah… the rotters outside must’ve made her remember her friend in some way—what they used to do together.” She paused for a second. “I—I felt something off with her from the start, Rick. She was too sharp, too factual for her age, but also…you know…she looked sad. I thought it was because of the death of her father, but Mika calls her weird, said she’s been always weird. She—she was afraid that Lizzie got them into trouble she first came in here—like…like it happened before.”

Rick shook his head. “What—what’re we gonna do if she is, Amanda?” he asked. “I mean—what if she becomes more violent?”

“I—I don’t know—” she stammered on the words, swallowing again. “I have no idea how to treat a child like this…” she murmured, heaving a sigh.

“There was—there was this boy once… We—we started finding animals around—butchered terribly—cut open—dissected… It was horrible, Rick. I—I was like ten or something. I found a cat pinned down on a wooden stack at the basement…her belly cut open…the cat…it was the little kitten that we played in the garden. We—we used to feed her, me and m-my friend. I gave her one of my milk shares one day. We were five or six at the house. Our foster parents, the husband, got so mad, told me they didn’t have money to waste on street cats.” She let out a bitter sound out of her lips. “I—I think he made me go to bed hungry for two days so I could learn not to give away my food.” She shrugged. “I didn’t care. I liked that cat. Then I found her like that.” She shook her head, staring ahead. “It was horrible.”

She stopped, turning to him, as if she just realized what she’d told him, and a redness crept over her neck toward her cheeks again, and Rick didn’t know what to say—just looked at her, stupefied, one part of him screaming to go and take her in his arms, tell her it was in the past now as the other…the other part just stood there, staring at her…

Then the door cracked open loudly, and Daryl poked his head inside barely. “Come—” he yelled. “You gotta see this!”

They shared another look as Daryl pushed back from the door before she stood up. Rick rushed to the door.

They followed Daryl with quick steps, going towards the maintenance rooms of the prison blocks, and his steps faltered as Rick saw the boiler room.

And, Daryl was waiting in front of that red door. Rick stared at it—the door behind which his living nightmare had passed. “Uh…we—we found it here, man—” Daryl explained, bowing his head, one hand holding the door’s handle, but not opening.

Amanda was giving him a look, too, her eyebrows knitted up, not understanding, but a second later, Rick nodded at Daryl. “Okay—open it.”

Upon setting a foot inside, he felt—he felt he was going to heave out. His stomach churned, his sight almost blackening out… and his steps faltered again. He swallowed hard… “She—she must’ve figured out we don’t check these parts a lot—” Daryl commented slowly, turning aside.

Amanda gave them both another look. “Why?”

“We ain’t—” Daryl only said. Rick didn’t speak.

Keeping his eyes focused ahead, not moving away, not moving away to that narrow corridor, Rick forced himself to do it, followed Daryl. He needed to do this.

He _had to_ do this.

_This place—this place is what all matters to me…_

“Hey, you okay?” Amanda asked suddenly, standing a few feet away from him, her eyes cutting over to him a sidelong look.

Rick jerked his head briskly. “Yeah. I am—” he rasped and gestured for her to move.

Her face lost the worried expression, and she glared at him, but without a word she quickened her pace and followed Daryl.

Rick felt like an asshole and hastened his own pace too to catch her—to say…to say what exactly? _I’m sorry, Amanda, this’s the place my wife forsook her life for Judith and then got devoured by a walker? Nothing left from her aside_ _from_ _a_ _lock of hair, and her wedding ring._

His eyes found her ponytail at the back of her neck—and suddenly it felt so…wrong—so wrong…everything… then ahead of him, walking to a dark corner, he saw her stopping in her tracks, her spine straightening.

Rick rushed forward, and saw what had made her seem to be cast of stone, frozen, and wished—wished he _hadn’t_.

Over the wall—there was a cat—pinned on a board with nails on its paws, cut open, red and fur mixed together—a macabre—

Rick realized what Amanda feared had come true—then saw her hands shaking. She was living in her own nightmare too… much like him…

She swept around on her heel, bowing her head, her hands still shaking—

Without any thought, without any notion, Rick took a step forward and wrapped his arm around her waist. They stood inches apart from each other—their bodies angled, not touching but close, so close—and he wanted—he wanted…

He flattened his palm over the small of her back, and made a move to pull her closer towards his arms—

A sudden boom echoed in the air, making the air surrounding them _tremble_. The walls shook violently, plaster falling down from the ceiling.

Shaken out of their momentary stupor, they both took a step back, staring at each other as plaster rained down on them—

“What the fuck—” Daryl shouted, turning back—

Rick turned and started running. “We’re being attacked!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, FINALLY! The Governor strikes back!
> 
> At first, I'd planned to take more time until he shows up, really, but as I wrote, I understood there was no way in hell I could've been able to keep Amanda and Rick still apart from each other with that silly "partners" if things went well, so, I also had to use Lizzie as a way to get things like it usually was, and here we were, Governor is back, as they both already started feeling like shit.
> 
> Lizzie's part-well, frankly, I tried to deal with it as tactful as I could be, child abuse is a no-nonsense issue for me, even in a fan fiction, but in their environment, they had to think-especially Amanda had to think if Lizzie might be getting abused, because you know... Life. Unfortunately. As story purposes, it was also a great way to get Amanda and Rick closer in a subtle, yet horrible way, I think.
> 
> So, yeah, Amanda will be meeting the new sonofabitch of the town!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, finally we're here!  
> This chapter possibly the reason why I chose to start this story between my other ideas, and I'm so glad to make it here at last. (I'm writing like a possessed woman these days, but whatever...)

**XXII.**

Here her fucking fabulous 30th day, Amanda passed in her mind as she ran along with Rick and Daryl in the darkened corridors. Even the thoughts of a minute ago suddenly lost its direness as the walls beside them shook again and more plaster fell down on their heads.

 _What the fuck,_ as Daryl’s chosen vocabulary succinctly summarized Amanda’s thoughts.

If she didn’t, she would say—would say they were under…artillery fire, which was absurd—and terrifying as she still could feel the walls shaking, trembling.

Oh, god!

Rick opened a fire escape exit at the side of the block, the shortest way out to the front yard. They jumped down from the ladder, guns already drawn. Hers was held by both of her hands, trained down so she was ready to aim at any second. Daryl had pulled his own, too, as he was lacking his usual crossbow as of the moment. Rick was already shouting at the people that were gathered beside the chain link gate.

“STAY BACK—” the words boomed in the air as they ran towards the gate. The watch tower across them in sight was on _fire_ , smoke and flames rising toward the sky.

“GET BA—” Rick shouted another time, then stopped in the middle of the sentence as Amanda was staring at the flames. His body staggered first before he regained his balance. Amanda leapt the last step out of the corner of the block and stopped dead, too.

No way.

No fucking way.

She blinked a few times to see better because she still couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She turned aside to look at Rick who was still staring ahead at the scene.

There were vehicles—perhaps more than a dozen, stationed like a half arc in front of the outer fence defense line. Some of them were SUVs, some of them jeeps, some even military trucks, but those weren’t what made everyone stupefied.

Any other time it would’ve been enough. Even seeing that many vehicles and _people_ in them were clear trouble. Amanda could see them even in the block’s yard, holding their arms up. She knew those arms also held weapons, but still they weren’t what made them stare.

No.

It was the tank. It was the fucking _tank_ that made them stare. Today—her 30th couldn’t have gone officially worse, she almost thought, but then she didn’t want to tempt fate any longer.

“Is that—” she spoke after a second, taking a step closer toward the gate, close to Rick. “Is that—a tank?”

“Yeah—” Rick muttered as they all kept staring at it.

Amanda squinted, catching that there was also someone on the top of it. The man was all above the others as the tank was also in the middle of their arc. He was standing tall and proud on the military vehicle, like a commander in a battlefield, which he most probably was.

“That man on the tank?” Amanda turned to Rick. “Is he the sonofabitch who wanted to take the prison from you before?” she asked, because somehow, she knew. She just knew. She always knew sonofabitches.

His eyes skipped toward her as Rick held the chain link gate between his fingers, his knuckles getting whitened by the force of his grip. “How did you know?” he asked.

Amanda let out a sigh. “Just a good guess.”

# # #

This couldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening.

_He’s just one of sonofabitches outside there. He’s not important._

His own words were echoing in his mind like a cruel joke, but it wasn’t a joke now. Not _now_. It was real, as hard as their life, and there he stood, the sonofabitch who called himself Governor—upon a tank.

A tank.

_On a fucking tank._

They were all astonished looking at it—and _scared_ …

“Rick—” Daryl roughed out as Rick stared, his hand still clutched around the gate tightly. Rick could feel the cut of the wires in his knuckle joints. Behind him there were hushed whispers, frightened and shocked, like he was. Then Rick heard the man calling at him from upon the tank.

“RICK!” the bastard yelled up. “Come down here. We need to talk.”

Rick shook his head, even though he knew the man couldn’t see the gesture over the distance between them. “I don’t make the decisions anymore,” he shouted in answer. “There’s a council.”

“I came to talk to you, Rick, from a long way around—” Governor yelled again. “You wouldn’t want me to come to YOU!”

After that, there was so little choice to make.

Turning aside, he shared a glance with Daryl. “Prepare the bus. If things go south, you know what you need to do,” he stated firmly, his throat tight. He nodded at Carl, holding his son’s shoulder for a second before he turned to Amanda.

“Aman—” he started but she cut him off even before he could complete her name.

“I’m coming with you.”

Rick shook his head. “No, you ain’t.”

“I am—”

He cut off her too. “No—”

“Rick, let’s not make this in front of the kids,” she warned, taking a step closer. “We _are_ partners, remember?” she asked in a hiss. “And I’m _not_ sending my partner there in front of a fucking tank alone. _Period_.”

“Dad, take her too—” Carl said, lifting his head up at him. “Don’t go there alone, please.”

His boy was looking at him openly, almost imploring, and Rick saw fear and worry clearly in his eyes. Fear and worry almost gripped him, too, but Rick steeled himself, pushing it away. His people, his family needed him now. He couldn’t give in.

Rick nodded, giving a squeeze at Carl's shoulder. “A’right.” He gestured at Amanda with his head, tucking his gun back into his holster. “Let’s go.” Amanda followed his example without a word.

As Rick started opening the gate, she held Beth’s upper arm and gave it a squeeze as Rick had done to Carl. The younger girl gave her a teary look in return. “Find the kids and be ready,” she instructed the teenager as Rick pushed open the gate. He let her pass first and followed her out the next second.

They started walking down over the wide lawn. She let out a breath, her eyes on the tank. “Do you think you could reason with him?” she asked with a small, but clear voice, putting her cool bravado back on.

“We have to try—” Rick replied as they passed the bus that lay down on its side on the ground a few yards away from the inner fence. They’d left it there inside the perimeter as a defense line, and Rick eyed it as they passed. “He’s got a tank.”

“Good point.”

They got closer, almost to the fence that separated them. Rick stopped, not wanting to approach closer. He opened his mouth, but the man shouted before him. “I wanted you to come alone, Rick!”

“So did I!” Rick yelled back. “She didn’t listen!”

Beside him, Amanda let out another breathy sigh. The Governor turned his eyes on her, “And who is she, Rick?” the man asked. “Your new lover?”

Amanda’s face stiffened at the words. “Sergeant Amanda Shepherd of ADP—” she shouted back coldly, using her best cop voice. “And I’m his partner, not his lover.”

The bastard nodded at her. “My apologies, officer.”

“May I ask why you’re standing upon a tank and calling us?”

“I wanted to talk to your partner,” the Governor answered simply.

Rick shook his head. “I told you. I’m not making decisions alone anymore. We’ve got a council.”

“You’re gonna have to make this one today,” he countered. “You see—your council might be short of a few participants.” He turned aside and waved at one of his men. They started pulling someone out of one of the jeeps—and Rick saw…dreadlocks.

Rick let out a sharp breath as Michonne, her hands tied behind her back, dropped out of the vehicle… then they leaned forward and pulled out—Hershel, too.

With a hiss, he walked closer to the fence as Amanda lunged forward. “Let them go!” Rick called out loudly. “Let them go! I’ll stand down here, and we’ll talk as long as you want. But let ‘em go now. You got a tank.” He shook his head. “You don’t need hostages.”

The bastard standing on his tank shook his head at him in return. “But I do,” he said and pointed toward the tank. “This’s just to show you I'm serious. Not to blast a hole in our new home.”

“What do you want?” Amanda asked, cutting in. “Say it openly.”

He turned to her and bowed his head a little in deference for her request. “Yes, officer. You’ve got till sundown to get out of here or they die,” he stated. “Take it and go.”

Go… Go where? Where else left to go?

No! There was nowhere else left.

They couldn’t leave the prison. It—it was what all mattered to him, what was important. He—he couldn’t let it go. They couldn’t go. They couldn’t try to make it out there again. It’d taken everything, everything. Not again. He—he’d promised. He’d promised to Lori he was going to keep their kids safe. Alive, safe, and fed.

They needed the prison. They were going nowhere. He shook his head again. “Doesn't have to go down this way,” he repeated. It didn’t. He didn’t want war. He—he just wanted to keep his people safe and alive.

They couldn’t do it out there. Grey, dimly lit, sickly appropriate, even with its infections, even with its killers, even with its psychopaths, they needed the prison.

_This—this_ _is_ _what’s important. Our home._

The prison was their home. Where Rick was trying to put it back together.

But the sonofabitch upon the tank, one of the many out there, just shook his head, and looked at him, almost…sadly. “I got more people, more firepower. We need this prison. There it is.”

“There are _children_ here!” Amanda spoke beside him with a fire in her voice. “Kids! A baby. They can’t be outside. Let’s talk about it.”

“I have a tank,” the Governor stated again. “And I'm letting you walk away from here. What else is there to talk about?” he asked and shook his head again. “I don’t want to do this the hard way. I could shoot you all. You'd all shoot back. I know that. But we'll win, and you'll be dead.”

“Some of you will be too—” Rick shouted back. “But it doesn't have to be like that!”

It shouldn’t. They—they had to find a way. They couldn’t leave. Rick wasn’t going to give up on their home. He _couldn’t_ , but in answer, the bastard just raised his gun and shot twice in the air. The shots banged in the air loudly, screeching long…

“Noise will draw walkers,” he stated matter-of-factly. “The longer you wait, the harder it’s gonna be for you to get out of here. You got maybe about an hour of sunlight left.” He paused again before finishing. “I suggest you start packing.”

# # #

When the shots echoed in the air, Amanda knew it was a battle lost.

She turned to Rick. “Rick—” she started, but he had that look in his eyes. They were almost red, and he—he looked battered, in despair, his dark curls plastered across his face and neck with perspiration. Amanda knew it wasn’t only because of what had been happening since this morning, but it was of fear and dread.

Her day—her fucking 30th day…

In which everything just was turning worse and worse.

Amanda had never been a quitter. She didn’t give up, she always tried, but she also didn’t get into fights she knew she couldn’t win. Rick, though, was still looking outside with that look. She knew then he wasn’t going to stand down, never would leave this place without a fight, and Amanda felt torn.

A part of her wanted to fight, wanted to protect what they had, because she was sick of the sonofabitches who thought they had a right to do anything just because they _could_ do it. She was so fucking tired of it. She didn’t want to give up, but the other part…the other part…

Well, the other part just wanted to leave, just right now, just right that moment, start packing and leave, just like the sonofabitch had suggested. They could start anew. It would be hard, but they could do it. It was better than bloodshed, it was better than being dead, but Amanda still could remember what Rick had told her in the laundry room—

_This place—this place is what all matters to me, Amanda. Keeping my people safe, my family, my children… safe, together, fed. That’s what’s important, anything else than…_

Anything else than that was just irrelevant to Rick Grimes. _I don’t want any complications in my life._

That was his core-drive, what made him tick, protecting his family, and it was the man he was, but Amanda still knew when a battle was lost.

She turned to him again. “Rick—” but without casting a glance at her, Rick moved closer to the fence. “We can all—” he started then paused to clear his voice, “We can all live together,” he stated, waving his arm at all of them. “There's enough room for all of us.”

The man—his advisory just shook his head. “More than enough,” he also accepted, but… “But we can’t live together.”

Amanda knew it was the truth, too. Just like how she and Dawn or Gorman couldn’t have lived in the same place anymore no matter what. She didn’t know what had happened between them, but she knew that much.

But Rick gave a little head shake again. “We'd live in different cell blocks,” he offered, still trying to find a common ground. “We'd never have to see each other till we're all ready.”

Dr. Hershel turned his head and gave the man a look over his shoulder. “It could work. You know it could.”

“It could have—” the man upon the tank stated, too. “But it won’t. Not after Woodbury. Not after Andrea.”

Amanda had no idea what those names meant, but nevertheless, she understood again. _So_ , she wished they just left when there was still time— He had a tank, and all evidence was indicating that he wasn’t only bark, bark, bark, but no bite. No. She feared he had the bite, too.

“Rick—” she tried to talk to Rick again, but he didn’t listen to her. Again.

When he spoke next, he addressed all the people out there, gathered outside the fences, people trying to take his home away. “Look, I'm not saying it's gonna be easy,” he started. “Fact is, it's gonna be a hell of a lot harder than standing here shooting at each other. But I don't think we have a choice.”

“We don't—” the latest sonofabitch she had the misfortune to meet stated again. “You do.”

And that was a fact, too.

Then Rick said, “We're not leaving.”

And that was another fact, too, Amanda realized, because Rick had his own bite, too. Amanda had _seen_ it before. A part of her still wanted to tell him it wasn’t worth it, but she knew it was too late for that now. Rick wasn’t going to give up without a fight first.

“You try and force us, we'll fight back,” he told them so, too, pointing his arm, still trying to reason, trying to…threaten at the same time, his voice full of fire… “Like you said, the gunshots will just bring more of them out. They'll take down the fences. Without the fences, this place is worthless. Now, we can all live in the prison, or none of us can.”

And yes, it sounded reasonable enough, and for a moment she thought—she thought the man wouldn’t have dared it, wouldn’t have dared to test him that way. The next second, Amanda remembered Dawn, remembered her own begging to the woman not to turn things into bloodshed—remembered how the woman had gone beyond reason, beyond any sense.

Just too far gone, just too far gone in her madness, and the look of the man in front of her reminded Amanda of Dawn, too. _So_ , she really wished they could just leave… Just fucking leave! She’d already seen this story, and it’d ended in tears…

She didn’t want to see it again—

She turned to Rick. He’d stopped her. When she’d lost her shit, he’d stopped her… “Rick—this isn’t the way,” she started with his own words. “We’ll get ourselves killed. We should—”

But her words cut off as the man jumped down his tank and drew Michonne’s katana—and walked towards Beth’s father as Rick shouted out, running closer to the fences.

“NO--!”

Amanda followed him, running. They were inches from the fence now, and behind her, back in the prison, she could hear screams—above all Beth and Maggie’s screams as the blade stopped at Hershel Greene’s neck. 

“You. You in the ponytails—” Rick frantically called out to the people outside, just as the way she’d done at Grady, pointing at the girl with a ponytail shorter than hers. “Is this what you want?” He waved both of his arms open in the air, asking with a fire. “Is this what any of you want?”

“What we want is what you got,” another sonofabitch who was half emerged out of the tank’s hatch with a military rifle perfectly summarized it. “Period. Time for you to leave, asshole.”

She turned to Rick again. “Rick—”

But still, he wasn’t listening to her…

“Look, I fought him before,” he started addressing his people once more, as his arch nemesis just stood there, listening, still pointing a katana blade at the neck of the man she’d sat down at his table for dinner a couple of days ago with his family…

When Rick spoke the next, his tone had that timber again. “And after, we took in his old friends—” Amanda _listened_ to that smooth but deep timber, the one that made you hear _him_ … even when you were about to die…even when you died… _wake up now…_ “They've become leaders in what we have here.”

“Now you put down your weapons, walk through those gates... you're one of us—” he told them, waving his arm back at the prison. Amanda knew it was the truth, too, he could do it. He could keep his promise. She just believed it. She just believed _him_.

Through all fear, dread and panic, another thing— a flutter in her chest, like…like something blossoming out of her chest—and for a second or so, Amanda couldn’t even understand what it was—then she felt it—all through her, coursing in her, she felt—hope.

They could do this. _He_ could do this.

He—he could make them believe—in a way Dawn had never truly managed.

“We let go of all of it, and nobody dies,” Rick continued.

Amanda just stared at him, as just as the others outside the fence, listening to him, _hearing_ him, “Everyone who's alive right now. Everyone who's made it this far. We've all done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive. But we can still come back.” His words vibrated in her insides, remembering the things she’d done…all the times she’d turned her head to the other side… people she’d killed, people she’d left behind… But he was right. They could come back. They were… they were not—

“We're not too far gone,” she heard him say, completing her thought, and she gave out a little smile. “We get to come back. I know... _we all can change._ ”

Her hand found the back of her neck, and she pulled off her hair tie, and let her hair go again, and felt it brushing over her shoulders as she dropped the tie off her fingers.

A soft wind passed over them, floating between her locks, and Rick’s eyes skipped over to her, and they shared a look—for a second that felt again like eons—

Then she heard it—so small, barely audible, but she heard it—just one word—cutting through it… and she froze.

_“Liar.”_

Their eyes moved up at the same time, and she saw the man raising his arm—and the blade…

While it fell, her eyes caught the sunlight glinting at the edge…then everything turned to red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So--it happened again, just as Amanda freed her hair again, another disaster happened. LOL.
> 
> As you can see, I almost kept everything the same how it happened at the show, only planted Amanda there as she HAD TO to hear that talk, as it was a coming full circle for her, hearing Rick's iconic "we're not too far gone" speech, as also the story's namesake, and started really *believing in him* (possibly falling in love, as well) even though she knew they should've just left, because it was a battle lost. As I said, I didn't want to change this part a lot, because it's such an iconic moment at TWD, for Rick, I wouldn't have done it.  
> I was trying to make Amanda's Dawn subplot very similar to what happened with Governor, too--Amanda realizing the man beyond reason, but had the bite, OH MY GOD, I finally put the "bark, bark, bark, no bite" thing from Adaptation in the narrative too, as I said full circle. He he.
> 
> So, the next, we finally leave the prison, too. I stopped here because I wanted this chapter to be special, just that scene before Hershel died. The next we'll start how they will leave out, who will end up with who :D Any guess is free, I'm still debating some ideas myself, too. :D
> 
> Like always, don't forget to review, if you're still reading. I really love hearing from you. Thanks!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are...splitting up, leaving the prison :)  
> Enjoy.

**XXIII.**

_NOOOOO!!!!!_

The scream—the scream must’ve belonged to him, Rick recognized his own voice, thought he couldn’t remember himself shouting. His eyes were on the sunlight as it played at the razor-sharp edge of the sword, falling on Hershel’s neck—and there was blood.

His arm was up in the air, too, already aiming—already shooting…

Hershel—Hershel—the man who showed him to how to pick himself up, the man who never gave up on him, the man who showed him there was another way—the man who told him he wasn’t too far gone—the man who always believed in Rick—the man who was like a father to him—he was dying.

And once again, Rick was watching it—unable to do anything.

Unable to reach him, unable to protect him, unable to save him…

Beside him, there was another scream he recognized, all above the other screams from his back, a lighter one, teary. Rick turned his eyes to Amanda—who was standing just behind his shoulders now, her hair loose over her shoulders, tears running over her cheeks. Her own gun was up in the air too—already firing, her glistened eyes glinting with fury—

—the gunfire started from the other side of the fence.

Heavy machinery fire.

He turned aside quickly, grabbing her at the upper arm. They started running up over the hill. She was a way faster than him, zigzagging in the field toward the bus at their left side at top speed, bent down over the ground.

Rick followed her—gunshots firing above their heads as they ran faster and faster. Twisting aside, he fired his gun again before Amanda threw herself at the ground and rolled over behind the bus that was lying on its side in the dirt road.

Rick followed her example again, firing his last two shots, then leapt forward towards the bus, too. Pain pierced through him, somewhere at his upper leg before he could complete the act.

He let out a scream, as the counterattack started from the prison’s yard. Rick clutched at the edge of the bus’s side and poked his head out.

“They’re coming in—” he yelled, twisting toward her as Amanda was already bent over his leg, checking his wound.

“It exited out—” she stated, her voice trembling, gripping the side of his lower hip, her tears still running. “I see the exit wound.”

Rick lowered his gaze and looked at the side of his hip. He’d been lucky. The shot had hit him at the side of his hip, missing his thigh where the main artery was. But he didn’t feel lucky, not at all.

He poked out his head again to see the situation better: to see Hershel at least. He…he must be gone now. The man who Rick loved as a father was gone. Rick wanted to do his last duty at least. He should do it. He couldn’t—he couldn’t let him turn, but they were coming.

With a deep, almost gargling sound, and many rumbling grunts, the tank started moving, slowly, painfully but decisively, slowly.

“They’re coming—” Amanda shouted, too, shooting a glance out, craning her neck up. “We gotta go. We can’t stay here.” She leaned toward him, trying to take him over her shoulder to pick him up, but Rick pushed her off.

“No. You go. I’ll slow you down.”

Her move suddenly ceasing, Amanda looked at him. “I’m not leaving you here—”

“You’re already a faster runner than I am,” Rick cut her off, “I got shot in my leg. I can’t run.” He gestured with his head— “And they’re coming. You go up, find others, find Judith and Carl,” he asked her, clutching her forearm, looking at her eyes, and wondered if he was begging now. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

But still she shook her head. “Rick—don’t be ridiculous. I’m _not_ leaving you!” she fired fiercely, staring at him hard, even though tears still glistening in her eyes, and started pulling him up. “You can’t die on me, either!”

She—she sounded mad, and Rick thought she had a right to be. He—he was failing her again, like everyone else.

He pulled himself off her grip. “No. You have to go back. They’ll need you. Kids will need you, Amanda. Please go run up. I’ll come back. He wouldn’t want me dead in the gunfire. He will want to do it himself. I know it. I’ll find him and finish this. You run—” he ordered, this time keeping his tone stern, and gave her another push. “Go now.”

She slanted at him another furious look. Rick couldn’t decide what she was furious with more; with him or with the situation. Finally standing up, her eyes locked on his, she ordered him, “You better not to die on me today, Rick.” Warning delivered, she glared, seething.

“I won’t—” he returned her look seriously, nodding. “I promise.”

She nodded with the same seriousness. She took her gun out and threw it to him. “Amanda—”

“Shut up. You’re out of bullets. I know it—”

Without another word, she leapt over the hill as Rick pushed back and started firing, covering her back as she did what she did the best.

She ran.

# # #

If they survived this, she was going to kill him!

She was going to kick his ass so bad he was _never_ ever going to think about making such speeches, ever again!

_We’re not too far gone!_

So stupid—so stupid…

She knew it. She _knew_ it was going to end in tears…but his words…vibrating in her…so easy…so easy to believe…so easy to—hope.

And this might be the universe’s response to remind her what would happen if you turned into a sucker.

Her loose hair swung in the air as she ran zigzags, not staying in one direction more than two seconds, and she thought perhaps she should just shave her head bald.

God, she was fucking hating it!

Stupid, stupid man…making such stupid speeches, making them believe…not just because they wanted to because they didn’t have any other choice, but truly believing it—believing _in_ him.

She wondered if there was a neon sign right now over her forehead flashing “sucker” because she damn well felt like one, and she was furious—so furious!

She could still feel tears running over her cheeks, could even feel the salty, savory taste of them over her lips as they slipped through into her mouth.

Hershel Greene—behind her eyes there was the man’s last moments again as his blood started running from his neck over his chest, the same blood she had part of running through her veins.

She felt like she’d lost something more just a kind old man who had been nice to her, but—but someone—someone who cared about her in a special way, who had accepted her at his table with his family, dined with her, held her hands with her and his daughters, and made them pray….

She hadn’t prayed…in a long time. She…she didn’t see any point. God…even if he were real, she was sure as hell he didn’t care for her a bit…but she’d prayed with them..

Because—because they—they were doing it, like a family, father and daughters, and she’d wanted to be a part of it. As if—as if she was really a daughter to a father like him.

Now, it was lost, like every fucking good thing in her life, lost forever, and Beth—

Beth.

God, Beth—the kindest, gentlest soul she’d ever known, and she’d lost her father today.

They—they were both orphans now.

The thought made her cry even more as she picked up her pace and ran even quicker. Her breath turned to fire in her lungs, but she didn’t stop. She had to get back, had to find them. Judith, Carl, Beth—all the other kids…Joan, Noah…

God!

She—she needed to find them. All of them.

So, Amanda did what she always did the best. She ran as fast as she could go.

# # #

His leg throbbed with pain with his every heartbeat, blood pouring out of the wound—his head already feeling dizzy. Rick stopped the thought, focused ahead. He had to do it.

He had to go back, find Carl, find Judith, find…Amanda. He had to go back.

He needed to find them.

They were almost passing him by now, the tank crushing the grass down into the earth—people around it at the front, moving forward. They were ruining his home.

Hidden behind the bus, Rick waited for the right moment. He could almost see _him_ walking behind the tank, too, not carrying the blade. The sonofabitch was holding a gun now, approaching, approaching… Rick’s rounds were finished. He’d used all of them to cover Amanda as she ran back.

He had to do it. He was injured, but he had no other choice.

Bracing himself for the pain, ignoring the throbbing ache in his leg, Rick jumped on the man, hitting him in his side, tumbling both of them to the ground.

It was the chance he had, to finish this, and Rick was going to do it.

He was going to finish it. This time for good.

# # #

It was hell.

Simple as that.

As gunshots passed over her head, Amanda leapt and threw herself at the first cover she saw, rolling over the ground. She hid herself behind benches in the front yard beside the greens that were placed upon a heightened sidewalk.

Two men were coming from her left, both holding guns, thank god, basic handguns. Herself without a gun, Amanda knew she just had to take one of those. Momentarily, she berated herself for yet another silly decision: leaving the gun to Rick. But he was a sitting duck there. She couldn’t have left him like that. She just couldn’t. He had to protect himself.

Amanda just needed to acquire a gun now.

It wasn’t the first time she was stealing guns from people anyway.

As they moved over where she was hidden, Amanda eyed them. These people—they had guns, and they were shooting, but they were…terribly bad at it, she noticed with happiness.

Their trajectory was off, and their aims were miscalculated. The bullets were bouncing off without really hitting any target, and then she understood. They weren’t trained. They were just people who were somehow handed with guns; rifles, semi-automatics, and a tank, she reminded herself, a fucking tank.

As if on cue, the fucking thing battered down their chain link gate, rolling on its tracks, and fired at one of the prison’s heightened walls.

More debris started falling, as every part of the yard shook. Shaking herself out of her stupor, Amanda didn’t wait any longer. She jumped on the back of the guy she’d eyed as a better chance, her arm coiled around his neck to keep him in position as a shield. Her other hand already gripped around his wrist tightly, her finger on the trigger—

Before the man could understand what was happening, she raised his arm, and squeezed, and shot the man in front of them in his forehead. Then she bent the man’s arm with a quick move and hit his temple with the gun’s butt, and the man went limp in her embrace. She stepped back, letting the man fall. He was so—unexpecting, it took her under ten seconds.

She quickly ran to the other man and took his gun too. Drawing up, she looked around— “Shepherd!”

She swept around and saw Daryl. “Daryl!” she yelled as he took down one of the men with his crossbow. “Where are the kids? Where’s Carl and Beth?” she asked. “Did you see them?”

“Beth went to look for kids. Judy is with Carl. They’re inside,” Daryl answered. “Can you get them out? I couldn’t go—had to deal these sonofbitches—” he continued, gesturing with his head at the people around the tank.

“Maggie?” Amanda questioned, her eyes on the tank as well as rotters started flowing inside through the broken fence.

“She’s trying to get people on the bus with Glenn—” the hunter answered, and catching sight of the walkers, he swore. “Jesus Christ!” He pushed in. “Go get them—” he yelled. “We gotta go.”

She nodded, already making a move— “Joan and Noah—did you see them, too?” she asked.

“They’re on the bus—”

She let out a breath of relief. At least they were where they were supposed to be. Before she sprinted inside the block, she gave Daryl a last look as the man shot at one of the rotters. “Rick’s still down at the fences. Look for him, too. We gotta go—” she repeated his words and started running inside.

Gunfire and rotters…and screams…. everywhere. It was a nightmare.

A part of C Block was in tatters by the artillery fire, and rotters were swarming inside over the fences, dead bodies all around, and there were some people down, getting eaten alive, screams echoing in the air. A lost battlefield where no one could live, just as Rick had warned.

They’d asked for this. They’d asked for this, and Rick had delivered.

# # #

Punches through punches, they fought.

Around them people were still marching toward the prison, but no one stopped for them. Walkers were limping over the broken fences, too distracted by the sounds and fires in the blocks that they barely gave their deadly attention to the men beating the hell of each other.

Rick was injured, and the Governor wasn’t. There was only a graze on his arm, and Rick was taking the brunt of the fight.

The fucking bastard threw him down and pressed his boot over his wound. Rick howled with pain, his eyesight blackening before he caught the man’s ankle and tripped him to the ground.

With a growl, Rick climbed over on him.

His shirt was already in tatters, one side of it completely tore. His left eye couldn’t even see good with the punches he’d taken, but Rick finally had the upper hand. He bent down and started punching the bastard as hard as he could, lost in his fury and anger—lost in his despair—

He—he didn’t ask for this!

They could’ve all lived together—

They _all_ should’ve lived together—

They were the living.

But this was a game where only the house would win.

And they were losing—again—he was falling.

He threw punches and punches, the beast inside him howling with anger and despair, and blood and sweat over his face through his cracked lips, salty and copper, and it tasted like failure.

He was going to kill this sonofabitch, like he _should’ve_ done long ago. They _couldn’t_ live in the same world. On that part, the bastard had been right.

A sharp twinge of pain at his right side cut through his unhinged rage. Rick felt a small blade slipped into his flesh. He looked down at the pocketknife that was now stuck into his side.

Then the fucking sonofabitch pushed him off of him, and standing up, he threw Rick toward the bus, and his hand raised for a punch.

Rick caught the hand at the last second, pain running through the tips of every nerve. The man’s other hand punched him in his wounded side, close to the blade. Howling with pain, Rick bent down, and tried to pull himself back up. The Governor caught his shirt. The fabric tore off completely as Rick took a few stumbling feet—then they were both on the ground again.

Only one difference, now Rick was underneath.

Then his punches started falling.

# # #

“Beth!!” Amanda screamed as she ran over the block cell. “Beth! Carl!”

Rotters were swarming inside, too, now. She killed two of them with second gun she’d picked up from the men outside and advanced further in the corridors.

“Beth—” she screamed again, another rotter in front of her… She dropped it dead even without thinking—

God, soon, she was going to be out of bullets. She needed to get another gun, and there was so little time.

They should leave—now!

They should’ve already left! As soon as they’d seen that damn tank!

The walls around her shook as if her thoughts had been heard, and more debris fell over her head. She shook her head. They should’ve already left!

Then she heard it, ahead of her…baby cries. She’d _never_ —ever been this happy to hear Judith cry.

She quickened her pace and ran toward them— “Beth!”

“Amanda—” Beth yelled back at her. “Amanda—we’re here—”

She turned a corner in the darkened corridors, grey and red now—and saw them getting cornered by four—no, five rotters. Beth was holding Judith with her left arm, as the right hand was holding her gun. Her arm was strained and angled just like Amanda had taught the girl.

Amanda saw the aim, and even her fingers trembled, Beth shot the rotter in the head.

The brain tissue splattered, as relief and pride spread over Amanda. They could at least protect themselves better against the dead. Carl was her side too, holding his own gun. He quickly took out another one as Amanda killed two of the remaining rotters from behind with quick shots, taking an angle she prayed wouldn't ricochet anything on the kids 

There, she was out of bullets, even the spare gun finished. Tucking the gun into her empty holster, she drew out her knife, and running, she stabbed the fucking damned thing in the head before she threw it out of her way.

There was no lick of patience left in her for _anything_ that stood in her way now.

She held them close by their upper arms, her right hand on Beth’s, the other on Carl’s— “Are you OK?” she asked, eyeing Beth and the baby girl.

Beth nodded. “We’re—” the teenager breathed out on a sob. “My dad—”

Amanda squeezed her fingers forcefully. “I’m sorry, Beth—I’m so sorry—”

Tearstains…tearstains had made long trails over her ivory cheeks. Amanda knew she herself had them, too. Snarls and growls started approaching again. Amanda shook her head. “C’mon—we’re overrun. We gotta go.”

Judith was still with Beth, sobbing piteously. They started running out of the cell block. “My dad—” Carl asked as they ran. “Where is he? Is he okay?”

Amanda swallowed. “He’s still down at the fences. Daryl was going to find him—” she told the teenage boy. “He got shot in his leg, but he was fine. He was looking for that bastard.” She halted for a second, pushing the door open, and they stepped outside. “I returned to look for you.”

At the metal staircase, Carl stopped. “I’m gonna look for him—” he said and started running down the stairs.

Amanda grabbed him as Carl passed by her, running like the wind. “No!” she shouted. “Wait. We don’t know where he is. Let’s find Daryl first,” she told the teenager, her eyes wandering around to locate the hunter.

Rotters—people still everywhere.

Goddammit!

Beth exclaimed behind them. “There—” She pointed at the left— “Over by the tank—Behind a walker!” she bellowed. “He’s using it as a shield.”

Smart guy.

The rotter was stabbed by a bolt to his chest after he’d thrown it down. Daryl was behind it as he advanced closer on to the tank. They were shooting at him. One of his hands, Amanda saw him something—something like a ball—something grey and green, and then understood what the hunter was trying.

“Take cover!” she pushed the teenagers down from the staircase. “Now!”

Daryl threw off the rotter, just beside the tank’s cannon, and jumping, he threw the grenade in his hand through it.

The hatch opened, and the asshole who had told them what they wanted what they had, screamed out— “Grenade!”

The ground beneath them shook before the explosion swept the tank from inside. From their cover, Amanda looked on, impressed.

She knew Daryl was a no-nonsense guy, but she didn’t know he was _that_ capable. Taking out a tank on his own, circled with the dead and people who wanted them dead all around.

“Daryl—” she shouted at him from their cover at the sidewalk behind the greens. “Daryl over here—”

The tracker ran towards them, killing the guy who had escaped from the hatch with his crossbow on his way. He crouched beside them, looking at the rotters still filling in the yard.

“We gotta go—” he said. “Hurry up—The bus already left.”

Carl shook his head. “Where’s Dad?”

“Did you look for him?” Amanda asked at the same time, but the man shook his head.

“No—couldn’t. The tank—” He gestured with his head.

Carl stood up from their cover. “I’m goin’ to find him—”

Amanda pulled him down again, gunshots still echoing in the air. “Carl—” she started, but Daryl cut her off.

“You take them out, go into the woods. I’ll look for him, then we’ll track you in the woods,” he told her, but Amanda shook her head.

The sun was almost set. They had less than a half of an hour of sunlight left now.

“No,” she declined. “It’s almost sunset. It’s too dangerous. We got Judith. She can’t stay in the woods at night. Not like this.” She glanced at the little backpack that was hanging over Beth’s shoulder. She knew it was Judith’s bag, but—no. It was too dangerous. And, Daryl… Daryl had to be with them.

“We got a safe house around here,” she told the tracker quickly. “A funeral home of Grady’s former board. We keep it stocked and clean for emergencies. There’s even a small cache in the basement. A few guns and stuff. Take the kids there. You can’t make it until the sun is down, but you can find your way in the dark better than anyone. It’s not very far away, either. I’ll find Rick. We’ll try to look for others and will come tomorrow.”

Carl shook his head. “No. I’ll come with you!” he opposed.

“No!” Amanda exclaimed. “You go with Judith and Beth. We’ll come later. Go now—we’re wasting time.”

Daryl nodded. “Where’s the house?”

She gave him the location as best as she could, but the tracker was quick and knew his way around in the woods. Soon enough, he understood. “A’right. Got it. We'll wait for you there.”

“Wait for two days—” she said, swallowing. “If we don’t come— _don’t_ look for us…Try to keep up.”

Beth shook her head, “Amanda!”

She stood up. “Go now—” She leaned down and kissed her young friend on the top of her head and then the baby. “Be careful. Be safe. I’ll try to find Maggie, too. They might be on the bus.” Beth nodded through tears. Amanda turned to Carl. “Take care of your sister, okay? You’re a man now.”

The teenager nodded. “I will—” He stopped for a second, but didn’t say anything else, either. Amanda wondered if he was mad at his father like Amanda was, even though he’d wanted to look for Rick. Another gunshot in the air couldn’t let her ponder on it further.

She started jumping over the sidewalk in a hurry. “Go now. Quick—” She shooed her hand. “We’ll find you. I promise.”

# # #

When the punches stopped, hands found his throat and started strangling him.

Everything was black, blood filling in his mouth, his blood, and everything tasted salty and copper, bitter—black…black and red.

Carl—he thought as fire spread over his lungs…

_Carl—I’m sorry…_

_Lori… I’m sorry… I couldn’t protect them…_

And he was failing them now, failing them in the worst possible way.

He cracked his eyes open to see the sunlight for the last time—with his bloody, swollen eyes….one last time.

He forced the almost swollen shut eyelid to stay open, and instead of sun, he saw… _her_.

Her arm was coiled around the Governor's neck, and Amanda— _Amanda_ was holding a knife to his throat from behind, trying to cut his throat, but his hand at hers was fighting with her—

The Governor hit her with his elbow in her side. Amanda staggered backward on her feet but didn’t let go. Her arm still stayed around his neck. Rick saw it, still laying under them—

 _“Rick—!”_ she screamed, _“Rick!”_

With the last ounce of his strength, Rick pushed himself up, pulled the knife out of his side. Blood sputtered out of the open wound over his hand, but Rick raised the knife and stabbed the sonofabitch in his remaining eyeball.

The bastard shouted with pain as Amanda finished it. His grip on her wrist loosened as Amanda slit his throat and threw him away from them.

Rick stared at her down on the ground, as she stared up at him, blinking against the sun… She dropped on her knees beside him. “God, you got stabbed, too!” she exclaimed.

“’m ‘kay—” he grated, trying to turn around. “Carl—” he tried to make a move to stand up from where he's kneeling. “Carl—Judith—”

She pushed him back down and toward the bus. “They’re fine. I found them,” she assured him, her eyes on his side, checking his wound. “We—we need to cover it. You’re bleeding.”

“’s fine—” Rick rasped out again. “Carl—I gotta find them—”

“Daryl and Beth are with them. The bus left. The prison’s overrun—” she started speaking fast, her hands probing him. “Grady had this safe house. Close to here. I sent them there.”

He nodded and pushed himself up, holding the bus’s frame. “Let’s go.”

“You can barely stand,” she told him agitated, gesturing at his leg. “We need to take care of this first. Take off your belt.” she ordered.

“Amanda—”

“ _Don’t_ Amanda me—” she snapped back. “Do as I say! Take off your damn belt. We need to tourniquet your leg. You can’t walk like this.”

Rick gave her a look or at least tried to. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of doing any actual glare right now, but she was right. He couldn’t walk with a gunshot and knife wound in the woods. In silence, he stood on stumbling feet. He started uncinching his holster first, his hands, wet with blood, were shaking, then took off his belt.

She gave him another look, but _not_ at him, at his ripped off shirt, then she drew back an inch in a swift motion and took off her own basic white tee.

If Rick weren’t in such a poor condition, he must’ve stared at her as if she’d gone mad.

Standing in her white sports bra, Amanda lifted her head at him. “C’mon, don’t look at me. Tuck it at your side, close the wound. I don’t have time to look for bandages for you,” she berated, taking the belt from his hand.

She dropped to her knees in front of him and started looping the belt around his upper thigh, above his main artery to cut off the blood supply. She fastened the belt, and craning her neck up checked on him again as Rick tucked her shirt over the knife wound inside his jeans.

Their eyes catching, Amanda shook her head. “You _really_ better not die on me today, Rick,” she warned him again, buckling the belt and standing up.

“I don’t plan to—” Rick countered, despite that he was about to die just a few minutes ago before she’d found him. “I survived worse…”

“Good—” Amanda shot back, taking his arm over her shoulder to support his weight, and told him before they started walking back to the prison. “Let’s find your kids, Deputy.”

# # #

He was going to be the death of her.

Simple as that.

They hobbled together, his arm over her shoulders, leaning over her. She knew he’d gotten it pretty bad with the Governor. Even she herself had started getting it pretty bad when she had attacked the sonofabitch from behind. At least at the last minute, Rick had managed to stab the asshole in his eyeball.

It’d been close, too close.

When she saw them like that, her first thought was—after she’d momentarily freaked out thinking Rick was dead—to attack the Governor from behind and slit his throat, but the man somehow had noticed her and stopped her before she could complete her attack. And god, he _was_ strong. Way too strong for her.

She hadn’t given up, of course, inched her knife closer and closer. When the bastard elbowed her in her side—at her still a bit sore side, she thought for a second, she was done.

God, how she wished for a gun now!

Both Rick and she were out of bullets, which made things even worse for them. She looked around as they walked back, rotters around them, limping toward the prison, but none of the dead bothered them as they were drawn to louder attractions, thank god for small mercies.

“Did you see Michonne?” she asked, looking around again. “We could use her sword now. We’re pathetically outgunned.”

Rick shook his head. “No. I don’t know if she’s still alive,” he replied. Amanda let out a sigh, taking another step up the hill, wondering how many people they’d lost today—

“We should’ve left—” she muttered out bitterly. “We should’ve left as soon as we saw that tank…”

Rick didn’t say anything in return, and Amanda let it go. It was…it was another fight for another day…she supposed. If they survived today, that was it.

Her fucking 30th day. Always to remember.

She would never forget today, _never._

She shook her head again and felt her hair brushing over her shoulders, and it pissed her off a great deal. She mumbled under her breath. Rick stayed silent again. So they walked back to the prison to follow Daryl and their group, him in torn up shirt, and she in her sports bra; the duo of the apocalypse.

She almost laughed, _almost_.

It was a long day, a long, long day.

They walked through the main gate as rotters swarmed all around, everything around them in ruins, people on the ground getting devoured, and she felt she was about to cry.

Rick, from what she could tell from his bloodied, battered expressions, felt the same too, seeing _his home_ like this; what mattered to him the most. All of sudden, her anger at him dissipated, leaving in its place a sadness, remembering the way he looked as he sacrificed his pigs and his tiredness…

Amanda wished she could stay mad at him, not like this—not like…this. “Amanda—” he called out to her slowly as she stared ahead; the bloodshed replaying behind her eyes, trying not to cry… “Thank ya—thank ya for coming back,” he whispered.

Swallowing forcefully, she shook her head. “Partners, Rick, remember?” she said in return. “Partners don’t leave each other behind.”

His only answer was a little squeeze over her shoulder where he gripped her for strength.

They walked, trying to be as quiet as possible as rotters were distracted with their food. She led them toward the backyard where Daryl and Beth had taken off into the woods through the broken fences—

Seeing the opening, they stopped dead.

Rotters—a herd—a herd of perhaps more than fifty were crowding the narrow corridor between the block and fences, clustered around something—something Amanda didn’t want to know. As they stopped and stared at them, the dead finally noticed them, lifting their heads, and started coming toward fresh meat.

Amanda coiled her other arm around his waist, got him closer to her. “Hurry up,” she hissed, and turning around, she started running toward the other side, dragging him along—

Then stopped dead again. Two people, one man and one woman still holding guns, were staring at them in the ruins, trying to get out. “It’s over—” Rick slurred out the words, waving his arm a bit. “Go now.”

The woman raised her gun and told her friend. “Get them down. As they eat them, we run—”

Amanda wanted to yell, wanted to scream, wanted to cry out what kind of monsters they were, but she didn’t do anything. It was not a question in these days, almost irrelevant.

They had guns, she and Rick didn’t; that was what was relevant now.

“Daryl—” instead she told Rick, and she didn’t even know why. She just wanted him to feel a bit better at least, she guessed. “Daryl would take care of them. I saw him take down a tank today.”

Rick nodded in his silence, but his other hand found hers that was still wrapped around his waist. He took her fingers in his.

All of sudden the gesture itself made things a bit better—just a bit better, too. She supposed there could’ve been worse ways to die than this, holding the hand of a man she knew—different.

She could only wish now that it’d be quick.

She almost closed her eyes, but before she could, two gunshots echoed in the air. The man and woman dropped dead in front of them, holes in their forehead, and then behind them, beside her sister Mika, Amanda saw Lizzie, the girl who had been feeding rotters, butchering animals, her gun still raised—

The psychopathic girl looked at them. “Carol said we should protect each other,” the girl declared as they both stared… “ _Always_.”

And at that moment, Amanda knew, no one had ever said any truer words, and the irony wasn’t lost on her, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I long debated myself how to split them up--I really wanted to do something--different, too--but I didn't want to keep Amanda and Rick apart as well, because Amanda still harboring a tempest inside because they didn't leave--just like Carl does, and I want to play with that, and Lizzie part is ironic--I mean, the psychopathic girl literally saved their asses, telling them about Carol--the woman Rick sent off to protect his own--irony. The show did it too at Terminus, and well, I wanted to play my hand too. Besides, I think I'm liking the idea Rick and Amanda dealing with Lizzie as they look for Carl, Judith, Beth, and Daryl. I also liked the idea Beth and Daryl herding up their own flock, taking care of Carl and Judith...so this happened.  
> As you can see, I also left Michonne part in the dark, as I still don't know what to do with her, lol. All in frankness, I'd found it very odd at the show that she left Rick like that--a total mess after his fight, who is asking for Carl--and didn't turn back to the prison to look for the boy with Rick because she was having a breakdown. I guess they did it only because they wanted her to return at the next episode but it came to me a very OOC moment for Michonne even for those times. I didn't like it, so I totally wrote it off. Besides, I wanted Rick and Amanda killing Governor together, too... So, this happened.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slow chapter after the last one, but I felt needed.  
> And before all groups finally make it back together, we're gonna follow Amanda and Rick with the girls for a while, but I might get a little Beth or Carl POVs in the middle, I said I won't do it--but as I wrote this chapter, I felt a Carl or Beth POV might be needed-- We'll see, I guess.
> 
> And at the risk of sounding too needy, I just wanted to ask--there were a bunch of you reading and commenting before, but comments suddenly dropped drastically--so I was wondering why? You get bored or something? Even if you get bored, I'd like to hear your reasons too, if you can spare a few minutes, that's it. I know it's kinda too much to ask, but I'd be very grateful to hear them. Sometimes even a negative comment is good for a writer. Thank you.

**XXIV.**

As appropriately as the rest of her 30th day went, they were heading toward the south, the opposite direction of the funeral house.

The gunshots Lizzie had fired to kill the sonofabitches who were about to leave them wounded for rotters drew more of the rotters' attention from the fences at the north side. Those started limping to them, so they’d had no option but turn to south.

Amanda guessed they would make a wide arc after they put themselves out of the prison’s swarming with rotters grounds, but the sun was almost down. And Rick—well, Rick wasn’t in any condition to make a trekking trip at night.

Her eyes skipped to him as they still hobbled together, his arm over her shoulder for support, hers coiled around his waist. Her right was holding the gun she'd taken from Lizzie as the girls walked in front of them a few feet away.

Amanda barely held a sigh as they walked out to the dirt road, four of them; her, a man who could barely walk on his own, a ten year old girl, and a twelve year old girl who had a _thing_ for butchering animals, the same girl who had saved them from a certain death.

The same girl Amanda had no idea what to do with.

Leaving her somewhere in the woods looked like the simplest and easiest choice—but…but how could they do it? Not only because the girl had saved them, but psychopathic tendencies or not, she was still a child. The cat pinned on the board flashed in her mind, but Amanda pushed it away. No… She—she couldn’t do it, even think on it. She—tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

When Rick started managing to form up coherent sentences of more than a few words, they would sit down and sort out a plan how to handle the girl. She just couldn’t deal with this now. Not after everything happened. It was a long day, such a long day. They needed to be practical now and get themselves to safety. The sky was darkening. In half an hour, it was going to be completely dark.

They needed to find a shelter to hole up in for the night. They couldn’t stay out. Especially not when Rick was like this. They needed to deal his wounds before they got infected and started poisoning his blood. They had priorities. What would happen next was a problem for tomorrow. Not for tonight.

Suddenly understanding they were headed in the wrong direction, Rick halted his wobbling. “This—this is south—” He spoke through half split lips, his words coming out as rasps as he struggled with each breath.

Amanda wondered how many hits he’d taken to his side before he got stabbed as well. One side of his face over his eye was swollen too, bloodied and bruised, and he really looked like shit.

But alive, Amanda reminded herself. That was the bottom line, not like others… Not like Dr. Hershel. Not like others she’d seen on the grounds devoured, people she couldn’t even recognize anymore. She wished all the other kids, Maggie, Joan and Noah were somewhere safe too… And she had to find them! She didn’t know how, but she had to find them, too.

They should’ve left—they just should’ve left!

The lingering anger in her was there again with the thought, winding around her edges, and she really—really wanted to turn and scream at him what the hell he’d been thinking, but she didn’t. There was also no time for that tonight.

“Girls—” she whispered to the girls who were putting some distance between them when Rick had stopped. “Don’t go far away—” she warned. “Only three steps.”

Three steps. She could grab them quickly, leaving Rick, if something—someone walked out. She turned to Rick, tightening her arm around his waist to drag him again. “Yes—the closest town is on this side of the road,” she said briskly. “We need to find a place to pass the night. We can’t make a turn to the north.”

He stopped again, shaking his head. “We—we need to get there—”

Amanda tugged at him again, yanking him to resume walking. “No. The sun’s almost down. You’re not in good shape. We need to get you inside.”

“No—Carl—”

She cut him off. “Is with Daryl and Beth. Daryl—who took out a _tank_ all by himself,” she reminded him, twisting aside to look at him again. “You need to take care of yourself first,” she clipped in the same brisk tones. “It’ll be no good to your kids if you die of an infection or a rotter gets a bite of you in the woods.” She paused. “I told them to wait two days for us. We still have time.”

“Is—is it safe?” he questioned with the same rasp low from his throat.

She shook off a shrug with her free shoulder. “We used to try to keep track of it. Make trips every couple of months if we could manage. We were going there to check it, too, when Gorman left me behind. It was how I got stranded near the prison’s whereabouts,” she explained. “We—we can’t stay there indefinitely, but we can hang around for a couple of days.”

Rick shook his head. “I don’t like it. I don’t like them being there—”

“Would you prefer them being in the woods at night?” she snapped, getting more cross. It was their best shot. She didn’t like it, either, but it was better than the alternative. “With Judith? Really?”

That got him to shut up. “First things first,” she said after that. “We need to patch you up. You’re no good to anyone like _this_ —” she repeated, the last word coming out in a hiss for an emphasis.

His head inclined down, Rick gave her a look, and it was still intimidating in his current state, Amanda had to admit. But he didn’t say anything in return.

“What about them?” he asked a couple of minutes later as they hobbled towards the outskirts of a small suburban town. A couple of white houses with porches, gardens, and picket fences appeared as the dirt road widened into a grey asphalt one, tall willowy trees swaying in the air with the wind at each side.

It was dark now, the sun had finally set. Amanda shook her head, looking at the girls walking a few feet ahead of them. “That, Rick,” she said with a long, loaded sigh, “is a problem for tomorrow.”

# # #

Leaning against the door’s frame, Amanda darted him a look, then gestured with her head. “No. You stay back,” she ordered again, and this was getting…tiring. “I got this.”

Tightening the gun in his hand, the gun he’d taken from Mika, Rick gave her a terse look, or at least he tried to. “No.”

“Rick!” she whispered fiercely in a hiss from the other side. “Which part of ‘you’re not in good shape’ did you not get?”

Rick slanted her another look, a retort that she _really_ looked in adequate shape to clear the houses standing in her sports bra, with her face, her neck, her chest, and even her stomach dirtied and bloodied, but he didn’t, because every word caused a fire in his lungs.

His ribs were hurting each time he breathed, his wounds were throbbing, and he was still losing blood, so yeah, maybe he wasn’t in good shape.

“I can do it,” the psychopathic girl said a few feet away from them at the porch, just where Amanda had stationed them to wait. “I can protect you. Carol taught us how. You taught us, too.”

Rick wanted to heave a long sigh, really he did. The reality, the fact that they were saved by the same girl, was turning his blood to acid. The bitter irony was there, too, something Rick couldn’t miss. _Carol taught us._

He had no idea what they were going to do with the girl. Should he send the girl away like Carol? The girl—she was a psychopath. The animals—that poor cat—that poor thing on the board. She was a timebomb. Almost had brought down the fences. Rick wouldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk Carl and Judith like that.

Carl and Judith.

He needed to find them. He needed to protect them.

But Amanda was also right. It was no good to them if he died tonight out in the woods wounded or blood poisoned. Like always, sharp, insensitive, and harsh, Amanda was right. He was no use to his kids dead.

It was just another failure, the worst kind.

For a second, he remembered the hands strangling him, and how it felt as he thought he was dying—failing them again in the worst way… His bleak thoughts suddenly cut off as he saw Amanda nodding at the girl.

His head snapped at Amanda, Rick shook his head, “No.”

No. Psychopath or no, Rick wasn’t going to use any children to cover his ass.

No.

But Amanda returned his look with a pointed one, “Rick—”

“No.”

She crossed the threshold to come to his side. She stood inches apart from him so the girls couldn’t hear them talking.

“Look at her, Rick,” she whispered to him, her voice still having the same fierceness. “She’s still as cold as ice. She’s got a good aim. She shot them just like the bull’s eye.” His head tilted down, his eyes found hers. “Rick, I—I—please, let’s do it, ‘kay. It was a long day. I just want to go inside and finish it—”

A long, long day. And yes, Rick didn’t want anything but finish it so he could look for his kids tomorrow.

They were okay, he told himself again. With Daryl and Beth. If there was anyone Rick would wish to take care of his kids if something happened to him, it was no one but Daryl. Daryl—he was like a brother to him, loved Carl and Judith as his own, would protect them no matter what, keep them safe or die trying. Rick knew it.

And Beth—Beth would take care of Judith like she always did, be a friend to Carl like they both needed. They were lucky. Amanda was right. He was still alive, and his kids were going somewhere relatively safe in the best company Rick would want them to be with.

Still, he couldn’t hide behind a twelve year old child.

“’s ‘kay—” he mumbled out, holding her upper arm. “’m ‘kay. We do it together,” he offered. “You lead.”

She gave her a look first, measuring him openly, then nodded briskly. “All right. Let’s do it.”

With her left hand, she held the door’s handle, getting in the position as Rick pulled back on the other side to cover her. She opened the door with a quick but expert move, gun already trained ahead. Rick moved behind at the other angle, his legs trembling as he stood up on his own.

God, every nerve at his body were aching, but she walked in warily, so he followed. Rick went to the left side as she walked to right, their backs on the wall as they checked the rooms. It wasn’t a big house, thank god. It had only two floors, bedrooms and bathroom were upstairs, as downstairs only had the living room and the kitchen. It was deserted, and already cleared out, broken furniture laying scattered around in a turmoil, like a tornado had passed through indoors, drawers open and empty.

But it _was_ empty.

“Clear—” Rick heard her call out from upstairs a couple of minutes later as he was checking the kitchen.

“Kitchen clear—” he answered shortly and walked back to the living room.

He bowed his head, a prayer at his lips even though he didn’t believe in any god. He—he just wanted to thank something today. He didn’t even know what…

Amanda quickly climbed down the stairs as the girls came inside and closed the door. Rick bent down, holding his side, and pushed the cupboard in the hall toward it to secure the entrance.

Running to him, she pushed him aside. “I got it—” she said, placing her hand on the furniture’s edge and started pushing it. Too tired of fighting with her, Rick let her do it. He threw himself down on the couch in the living room beside the staircase when she was finished.

Rick leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. It hurt so much—his side burning with fire, every breath felt like someone stabbing him in his chest.

“Girls go up and try to find something to wear for us,” he heard Amanda order the girls. Rick opened his eyes. “Shirts or tee shirts…Quickly—” As the girls moved upstairs, she turned to him. “I’m gonna try to find a first-aid kit or something,” she said, her eyes fixing at him a warning look. “Wait here.”

Rick let out a little scoff-sound, shaking his head a little, but didn’t comment further. The girls came back a few minutes later, holding two white basic tee shirts. He took one of them and started standing up to go to the bathroom to check his wounds.

She reemerged from the bathroom at the same time. “Nothing—” she fumed in angrily, trotting toward him. “Nothing—no antiseptics, no bandages. There’s _nothing_.”

He nodded, limping on his good leg. “’s ‘kay. I’ll handle it.”

She shook her head, stopping at his side. She held his elbow in support. “We need to clean your wounds. They can’t stay that way.” She shook her head again, closing her eyes. “There _gotta_ be something.”

“Wine—” Rick rasped out. “Look if there’s wine—if we can boil it, we can use it to cleanse ‘em.”

She let out a sharp breath. “Yes, of course—” She turned aside backward. “Lizzie—Mika!” She called out loudly. “We need wine. Look for it.” She stopped then, halting him at the same time.

“You go wait on the couch—” Tugging at his elbow, she turned him back toward the living room. “I’m gonna check if there’s still gas for the stove.”

“Amanda, _stop_ bossing me around,” he rasped at her, pulling his arm free before he started limped toward the bathroom. “Go look for the stove. I’m going to the bathroom.”

She glared at him again, her eyes lit up, and spat, “Fine.” She turned and walked away to the kitchen.

Rick wanted to sigh again. She was right. It’d been such a long day. And he only wanted it to end now.

He walked into the bathroom and found the mirror. There was dust and…other stuff over the mirror. Reaching out a hand, Rick wiped it clean and saw his reflection.

A mess. A bloodied, marred, ruined wreck.

His lungs burning, he breathed out and forced his arms backward to take off the torn-up shirt, holding the blood covered white tee over his wound. His leg was throbbing, and giving a sharp hiss of pain, he leaned forward as every muscle, every nerve in his body felt like on fire. He dropped down on the toilet’s closed lid, his sight darkening.

Swallowing his pride, and muttering a curse under his breath, he called out with a loud rasp, “Am—Amanda—”

In three seconds, clad in the other white tee, she was back in the bathroom. She didn’t say a word, upon seeing him, only walked to him and helped him to take the damn shirt off.

She tried to lower the good side of the shirt over his shoulder first as Rick hissed with pain again. She stopped her movement, hearing his hiss. She drew back, eyeing him, then shook her head. “Forget about it—” She muttered before she grabbed the shirt and started ripping it off him.

Rick lifted his eyes up at her. “Quicker,” she only said in response to his unspoken inquiry, her eyes dutifully trained on his chest.

Another sigh at the tip of his tongue, Rick didn’t say anything. “I found the stove. Still working,” she informed him, taking a step back when she was finished. Naked above his waist, Rick nodded and stood up slowly to look in the mirror to see his injuries better.

“Is that it?” Amanda asked suddenly from behind him.

Rick twisted his neck an inch and gave her a look over his shoulder. She pointed at the scar on his side. “You said you survived worse,” she stated and asked again, “Is that it? What you survived?”

Turning toward the mirror, Rick nodded. “Yeah. I—I got shot chasing two perps with my partner,” he answered slowly, rasping out his breath as he bowed his head to check his ribs. “There was a third one. Didn’t s-see him. He shot me.”

Amanda nodded; Rick saw the gesture in the mirror as he raised his eyes. “I got shot once before myself, in my shoulder. Nothing that bad—” She waved her hand toward his scar; Rick saw again in the mirror. “But well, I almost quit.”

She shook her head, and there was something in her tone when she continued, something Rick didn’t know how to name. “I guess getting shot makes one do that…” She paused. “You know…reconsider your life choices.”

Their eyes caught each other in the mirror. For a moment, Rick couldn’t be sure if she were talking about before the turn or what happened to her at Grady. His gaze flicked to her loose hair, her locks gently brushing over her shoulders. She had untied her hair _again_. When he’d spoken to them, when he’d said they could all change, she had freed her hair from her ponytail.

Rick wasn’t an idiot. He knew what the gesture meant.

He wondered what she was thinking _now_. He knew she was mad at him. He could feel the sentiment boiling underneath her annoying bossy attitude. She was trying to keep it bottled up, but Rick still could sense it, simmering beneath the surface. But she wasn’t making a scene, so Rick wasn’t going to, either.

“Yeah,” Rick muttered, bowing his head again. “Never had the chance,” but the words followed. “I was in a coma afterward.” His eyes drifting downward to his wounds, Rick slowly lifted her old wadded up shirt to look at the stab wound. “When I woke up, I saw the world I knew already ended.”

“What?” she rasped out in a small voice behind him.

Rick tried to shrug it off and failed. “They—sort of forgot me in the hospital,” he remarked. “It was at the beginning of the outbreak. My partner—he barricaded the door with a gurney when the hospital was overrun, and the military started shooting people. So—well, I stayed there until I woke up—a month or so later.”

“You survived like that?” There was disbelief in her tone.

Rick nodded, turning. “Yeah.” He held the washbasin’s edge. He motioned to his torn up off shirt on the tile floor where she'd dropped it, and bending down, Amanda picked it up.

She frowned as she handed him the shirt. “But Carl and—your wife. How did you find them again?” she questioned further.

“After I checked our home, I went to the city,” he explained, starting to tie the torn up shirt over her tee over the wound, and again failing. He had no idea how this talk had turned to this, but here he was talking about what had happened to him. He tried to make another attempt to tie the shirt, but with a sigh, Amanda walked to him, and took it in silence.

She started doing it, and Rick let her again. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn't even turn towards his damn back.

“Glenn was in the city for a supply run with his group,” Rick began telling her as she began wrapping the shirt over her tee. “He—he found me in the city. I was about to get devoured by a herd. Hid in a tank—” She moved her eyes up to look at him at the mention.

“He helped me. Got me out of there and out of the city,” Rick continued. “His group had a camp outside the city in a quarry campsite. I went with them. I thought Carl and Lori might’ve left the city, too. I was right. They were at the camp. Shane—” His breath hitched, and she darted at him another glance. “My partner got them out before the bombings started.”

She swallowed low in her throat. Her eyes were trained at his side again as she wrapped the shirt around his torso, but she shook her head. “I—I thought stuff like this only happens in the movies,” she muttered. “People coming back from the dead—finding their families."

Bracing himself for the pain, he made out a sound before he muttered, “Said the girl who had a memorial done in her name.”

She mimicked his gesture, a small snort-scoff low in her throat, lifting her head to look at him again as her fingers stopped at his side. “Yeah—pot calling kettle, right?”

His eyes on hers, Rick nodded. “Something like that—” Their eyes lingered on each other, a sudden silence befalling on them—And they stared, stared at each other… She had the clearest green eyes Rick had ever seen… His eyes flicked towards her lips—His head moved an inch…

“Amanda!” Lizzie’s voice echoed into the bathroom, cutting through the silence. They both flinched back at the same time… “I found wine!”

She twisted aside, looking at the girl as Rick bowed his head, breathing out, his lungs on fire—he swallowed.

“Wine—” she breathed out throatily, walking to the girl, and repeated, “Wine…”

She took the bottle from the girl, tightly gripping it, and bowing her head, too, she stayed like that for a second before she turned to him.

When she spoke next, her voice was clear. “I’m gonna boil it. You go over to the couch and lie down.” She paused. “You need to take off your pants, too.” Another pause. “Lizzie, help Rick.”

With that, she turned and threw herself out of the bathroom, leaving him alone with the girl.

# # #

As Amanda scurried toward the kitchen, she told herself it was nothing, just a slip. They just had…a moment. It—it meant nothing.

It was nothing.

Just the close space of the bathroom, the nostalgia of the past, and the exhaustion of the day—her fucking 30th day!

A day that just wouldn’t end!

And—and she was still mad at him! She kept it…civilized because she damn well knew he was already battering himself up about it, but she was still mad at him. Beth and his kids were out there, and the other kids were who-knows-where. She had no idea where Joan and Noah were. She had no idea where Maggie was…. People died!

Hershel Greene, one of the best men she’d ever known, had died just because Rick Grimes couldn’t admit defeat!

It was stupid—all too stupid.

They should’ve just left. It would’ve been hard, but at least they could’ve been together now—alive.

She let out a sigh, opening the cupboards in the kitchen to find a pan to boil the wine. God, this was going to suck. It was going to _hurt_.

Then it happened again, her anger dispelling, left in its place into that familiar sadness—and Amanda shook her head. She was so tired, so tired. She found a saucepan in one of the cupboards and took it out. Opening the bottle with the corkscrew she found in the drawer, she poured the liquid into the pan.

She knew it wasn’t his fault. Rick didn’t cause this. He didn’t want this.

It was that damn bastard’s fault, no one else but that bastard…but—but—

She let out another sigh, stirring the wine, too tired, too tired…

And why—why the hell it was so _hard_ to stay mad at him!

God, perhaps she should’ve just said yes when Daryl told her to take the kids out in the woods with Beth. She hadn’t thought it would be this hard with Rick.

She shook her head. No. She was just being dramatic. Like _him_.

It was just a moment. They were both tired, and lost people today, Rick worse than her, way worse than her. He’d lost—his home. The thing was that even though Amanda had been trying to adapt, even though she’d been trying to make her a place for herself, the prison had never been her home. Not like how it was to Rick.

They were tired, they were wounded, they were—heartsick.

She looked at the pan—the boiling wine—and shook her head again. God. This was going to hurt like a bitch.

She heaved out deeply, and turning off the stove, she brought the pan into the living room. Rick was waiting on her on the couch like she’d instructed. He was leaned backward, his head tossed against the headrest as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with each laboring breath he took, his eyes shut tightly closed.

He looked so tired…so weary…so heartsick, for a second or so Amanda just wanted to give him a hug, something like Beth would do, expecting nothing in return, only companionship, a bond of camaraderie for the shared loss and pain, but Amanda wasn’t Beth.

She didn’t do stuff like that. She even didn’t know how—and even if she did, Rick would only get more anxious, because Amanda _wasn’t_ Beth, and Rick knew that, too.

And, he was still wearing his jeans, even if his belt she’d looped around his wound to keep pressure on it was still in its place. “Rick—” she told him, walking to the couch. “We need to do this.”

His eyes still closed, he nodded. “I know…” he muttered.

The girls returned to the living room, and Amanda felt a bit better with the company. Straightening back up, Rick gave them a look. “Girls—” he called out to them with a stern voice, “Go upstairs. Lock the door. And don’t come out until we call you.”

Both of the girls gave him a look, and Rick stared at them. “Up. Now.”

At the same time, they bolted to the staircase and started going up. Soon Amanda heard a door locked click into place. She turned to Rick, almost amused.

“Y-you know what she does, right?” she asked, giving him a look, a smile almost breaking over her lips. God—she was losing it. She was losing it.

Rick shrugged. “They’re still kids—” he said and started unwrapping his torn shirt they’d tied around his torso. “I’m not gonna let them watch as you torture me.”

Amanda let out a faint smile this time, her lips not parting, and placed the saucepan on the floor beside the couch. Rick started taking off the belt on his leg, too, as she started using scissors to cut the sheet the girls found looting the house. The sheet looked clean enough. She wished for pressure bandages or at least some gauze, but like always; beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Slowly, Rick started unzipping his jeans and lowered them down over his hips, revealing the bullet wound.

Quickly, Amanda bowed her head to give him privacy, she really didn’t want to make things harder for him. A few seconds later, in his boxers, blue (she still caught a glimpse under her bowed head), he lay down on the couch, his jeans pooled below his thighs… his boxer folded up to his groin…

He took his belt and folded it in two. “I’ll probably pass out, but don’t stop,” he instructed, raising the belt toward his mouth as Amanda walked closer to the couch. “Clean the wounds and wrap them with the sheet.”

She nodded, and stopping beside him, she looked at him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ‘kay—” he told her, putting the folded belt between his teeth and nodding at her, his hands gripping the couch’s sides.

Amanda knelt down and started pouring the still warm liquid over his open wounds.

His body jerked up, his fingers turning white as he clutched the edges. Pain must be intolerable as his eyes reddened with tears as his head tossed back against the armrest, his screams silenced through the belt between his teeth. Her own sight got blurry too, but she kept pouring.

Soon, his body sank down, Rick losing consciousness out of pain. Amanda still poured as he had instructed, first the knife wound, then bullet wound, cleaning—making sure he survived—for his family.

# # #

When she was finished cleaning and bandaged, the moon was up in the sky, Amanda saw it from through the cracks of the blinds at the windows.

Inside, the room was dark, the only source of light the dim moonlight that was barely slipping through the cracks of blinds. The girls were still upstairs in the bedroom. Rick was still out, his breaths heaving out deeply. Without other furniture in the room, Amanda was sitting on the floor, gun in her lap, her back resting against the staircase, one eye on the upstairs, one eye on the couch.

She was so tired she could fall asleep at any moment, but she forced herself to stay awake. Someone had to keep watch.

Someone had to keep an eye on him, make sure he was…okay.

For all the things he did for her—for all of them, Amanda could do this at least. She still didn’t know how she could be mad at someone and feel…compassion at the same time. She didn’t understand, and it was very…confusing, the very reason why she never wanted things to get complicated, why they should keep their distances, but as of the moment, she felt she was doing a very poor job of it.

He stirred in his unconscious pain induced sleep, and Amanda remembered what he’d told her. Being in a coma, finding his family again, his kid and his wife—and his partner… She knew there was even more drama there, but all in honesty she didn’t want to know more anymore. The warning bells had set off in her again, and she also knew what that meant.

She let out a sigh, pulling her legs up to her chest, and rested her head against her knees. Her hair fell over her shoulders... Stupid, so stupid…

Then Rick stirred again. His breaths turned to growls—low growls out of his chest—all of her thoughts stopped as Amanda listened to the sound—afraid—her insides turning cold…something cold and heavy like a stone dropping in her stomach.

No—No… he couldn’t.

He—he-he’d just lost consciousness. Out of pain.

She swallowed, dread and fear gripping her chest, and drew to her feet slowly—slowly walking toward the couch, so—so slowly—afraid—afraid what she might see…

His hand dropped over the floor, and twitched—

_No…_

And he growled out, she heard it; a slow, low utterance of a name, a single syllable, as if it were what all mattered in the world: “Carl—”

Amanda blinked, tears suddenly spilling from her eyes. “Judy—” his baby girl’s name followed. “Safe—stay safe—” he muttered. “Safe…”

This time, ruefully, tears still in her eyes, Amanda smiled. She walked to him and sat beside him on the couch.

She wondered for a second how it would’ve been having a father like him before another thought found her, even before she could understand it was there, blossoming out of her mind as if it was already there, only waiting for her to realize it—and—and she wondered… wondered _how_ it would be having a child with someone like him, having his baby…

Suddenly behind her eyes, they were together again as he held the baby girl close to his chest as a beam of sunlight fell over them from the barred windows. She almost sobbed. The image—the image so vivid in her mind— and somehow her hand found her stomach...

Then she heard it—another name—almost a moan—leaving his lips with such a longing, with such a yearning—Amanda froze, as if turning into a statue…her limbs made of granite, her hand dropped over the couch’s edge, heavy.

She stood up from the couch as Rick moaned again… “Lori…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if anyone wants to throw something at Rick, be my guest. LOL.  
> But I just had to do it--because I feel like in these parts Rick still was dealing with the loss of her, and his guilt, and the loss of the prison just came at the top of it, I think. I really don't want to make Rick move on from her to Amanda in a matter of blink. He he. That's not Rick. He's--a bit loser...you know... LOL. I'd laughed so hard at Season 2 when he practically put the words of reason in Lori's mouth when Lori couldn't answer him why she slept with Shane--and he told it himself, "you thought me dead--" and Lori was all like--"yeah--?" with a nod. I really laughed out at that...HARD.


	25. Chapter 25

**XXV.**

In his dream, the prison was on fire, burning in the darkness, red—so much red…

Beneath his feet were people they had lost, starting from the beginning. His eyes caught first Jim, laying just beside his boots, covered with blood, like everything else. At his other side, there was Hershel, blood still seeping through his neck over his chest.

Rick was standing atop of a mountain of people he’d lost, people he’d failed and behind his eyes there was the home he’d lost, too, burning to the ground, turning to ash…

Everything—everything was turning to ash.

_I’m sorry—_

He first saw Carl looking at him… Rick reached out his hand, heavy, his limbs were so heavy… He tried to walk to his son but couldn’t. His legs felt like they were rooted to the ground. He tried to call out to him, but the words were like beads made of glass, stuck in his throat—

“Carl—” He needed them to be safe… His children… “Judy—stay safe—” He only wanted to keep them safe— “Safe—”

He dropped to his knees… failure heavy like a mountain on his shoulders…

Then she came, too, clad in her white gown, looking tall, beautiful, and clean as if no dirt from their world could reach her anymore… Rick lifted his head up to look at her, tears in his eyes… “Lori…”

_I’m sorry—_

# # #

When Rick woke up, it was morning.

He groaned, trying to move his arm over his eyes against the sunlight that seeped through the cracks between the blinds. His whole body was still throbbing with pain. He felt like a nail was being driven through his skull. Everything hurt—even the sunlight hurt, his side and his leg throbbing worse.

But—but he was still alive.

His pain-induced sleep was restless, Rick could still remember the fires, and his mouth felt like ash. He groaned again, stirring… Water. He needed water. He possibly didn’t drink anything since yesterday. He must be dehydrated now.

Slowly, he lowered his arm and forced his eyes open. The house was silent. “A-Amanda,” he called out.

Rick knew she wasn’t very far away. She must’ve kept watch all night, he knew that, as well, since he was unconscious. She wouldn’t have let the girls do it. He should go and find her so she could sleep a bit.

This was hard for her, and neither Rick nor his injuries were making it easier. For a second, he remembered their moment in the bathroom but pushed it away. He had to concentrate. Get up. Get up and fight, like his grandfather used to tell him when he was a child.

Slowly, holding back a groan, Rick drew himself upright on the couch, moving his legs down, and putting his feet down on the floor. His head bowed, he looked at his boots.

God. He was so tired.

But he wasn’t dead yet, so he should get up.

Carl—Judith… The sun was up. He had to find them.

The thought that they were at that safe house still gave him chills. A part of him was bitter, too, for not doing it themselves, at least not preparing a rendezvous point in case they got separated. They’d stashed the bus in case they had to leave in an emergency. They were to go out in the woods through the administration office, but they had never thought they would get this far separated under heavy artillery and gunfire.

The tank—the tank had screwed up their plans. Yet, that wasn’t an excuse, just another bitterness added to his many screwups. He—he should’ve thought about it. He _must have._

It was his job to protect them. He should’ve never balked from it. _I grow crops, feed pigs, kill critters…_

He lifted his head, moving his eyes to locate Amanda, but—but the living room was empty. And it was silent, too silent. A dread feeling caught a hold of him… “A—Amanda!” he called out again, this time louder, panic settling in him.

Wh—where the hell was she?

Frantically, his body jolted with adrenalin, Rick drew up to his feet. He started limping toward the staircase hurriedly at the time Mika emerged from the kitchen.

“You—you woke up, Mr. Grimes?” the little girl meekly asked.

His heart throbbing in his throat slowed down a bit after seeing the girl, and he started breathing a bit easier even through the pain. But something was still off. His eyes wandered and then fell on the door… and the cupboard…pushed away from the entrance.

Rick stared at it… a heavy stone dropping in his stomach as panic started turning to anger— _Amanda!_ He screamed inside.

“Where’s Amanda?” he rasped out, hissing.

The girl bowed her head, looking at her feet. “She went out with Lizzie. There’s almost nothing in the house. We found a bit of water and some cornflakes,” she said as Rick still stared at the door, hearing the words, but not registering them… _She went out with Lizzie_ …

“She told me to give them to you when you woke up,” the girl continued as Rick kept staring… “She said you must drink water—” The girl stopped and dashed back to the kitchen—

He was going to kill her!

Or she was going to be the death of _him_ …

What the fuck she was doing taking Lizzie out to scavenge?

The girl was a problem they needed to sit down and talk about. Not to take out to look for supplies!

The Governor’s people might be still outside. The town was the first settlement close to the prison’s grounds. Like them, the others might’ve taken to the town for refuge. Lizzie had kept her cool in the attack, but she was still a wild bet. What the hell she was thinking? Sneaking away without a word while he slept!

Mika came out from the kitchen again, holding a bottle in her hand as Rick was almost ready to leave the house and start looking for them. He—he didn’t have time for it. They—they had to leave. He had to find Carl and Judith!

Trying to calm himself, Rick looked at the bottle in Mika’s hands. It was half full, the color dull, almost beige. Rick didn’t even want to think about how long the water had been here. He gave the little girl a look. “You drank?” he questioned, taking the bottle.

Mika gave him another meek nod. “Amanda let us take a few sips,” she answered. “She said the rest is for you.” She paused, giving Rick a meek look, too. “She told me to make sure you drink, sir.”

Rick gave out a faint scoff, opening the bottle. “She drank herself?” he asked, even though he half knew the answer.

“I didn’t see—”

Stubborn mule. Rick took a sip from the dull water, wetting his cracked lips. Stubborn, stubborn mule. He walked to the window and looked through the shades. The street seemed silent, empty aside from leaves on the sidewalks and the road, deserted. “She said which way they’re going?” he questioned.

Mika shook her head. “No.”

Rick considered his options again. He would _sit_ and wait for her, not leaving Mika alone, or he would go out and look for them, leaving Mika alone—

Damn woman! Damn woman!

 _Amanda, what the hell are you doing,_ he rebuked inside his head as he turned to the window to look out at the street, trying to quell down scenarios playing in his mind, each worse than the other…

# # #

Of all of the bizarre things she’d done in her life, this must be in first place of her top ten.

But she didn’t have another option.

It was tomorrow now. And she had to deal with Lizzie.

It was morning again, another day, so Amanda left her rather unnecessary childish notions regarding one certain southern cowboy where they belonged—in the dark hours of the night—and returned to reality.

It was normal. Sometimes in the dark you thought of stuff you wouldn’t think about in sunlight, no big deal. Everyone did it. She wasn’t some sort of super-human or something. In fact, that she was even glad that she was capable of doing it, imagining normal stuff, like other people did… Sometimes…she feared…feared something was wrong with her, too. That deep down, like a taint, she felt stirring in her depths, that she was a piece of a puzzle no one knew what to do with…best to leave her at the hospital.

Sometimes she still asked herself why her mother wanted to give birth in the first place. For a while, after she got shot in her shoulder, she wanted to find her mother for that, to ask why? Why did you bring a child into this world only to leave her right after her birth?

Her mother turned out to be dead, so she still didn’t know… Her best explanation was that her mother somehow didn't realize she was pregnant until it was too late for an abortion. She guessed it would just suit for her life, too… God, she really hoped it wasn’t because her mother believed a sort of “all life is sacred” crap.

Her life had never felt sacred, not then, not now, either.

It was just a thought, she told herself, again. _Just_ a thought. No big deal. She was coming to her thirties now. Perhaps her hormones were acting up on her. She heard women started feeling such…cravings when their biological clock started rushing toward menopause. Perhaps it wasn’t even about _him_. And Rick moaning the name of his dead wife in his unconscious state, the love of his life—well, no big deal, too.

Amanda already knew he was still pining over the woman. She knew he still loved the woman—so no big deal.

It was morning now. She had _other_ problems. And the house really had _nothing_.

In the house they were scavenging, Amanda’s eyes skipped to the tall girl.

She still didn’t have any idea what to do with the girl. But she knew a _talk_ was in order. Perhaps she should’ve waited until Rick woke up, but she really didn’t want to stay in the house. She needed some distance from all of his drama. And she _needed_ to talk to Lizzie, too. So Amanda called for an emergency supply run to build some bonds between the girl and herself.

Amanda tried not to think how it’d ended for her the last time she wanted to do some bonding with a man who had his own problems… She gave out a sigh.

God, she never learned her lessons, _never_.

But they just couldn’t leave the girl. It felt so wrong—so wrong—despite her psychopathic tendencies, it felt wrong. And Amanda was tired of leaving people behind. The people she left behind at Grady were still making something twinge in her chest, the way she’d moved on. She didn’t want to do it again.

She was tired of it…just so tired of it…and FUCK IT!

She’d picked the worst—the fucking _worst_ time to develop a damn conscience.

Yes, the most logical and simplest way seemed like to wash their hands of the girl. But was she prepared to do that? Amanda didn’t know. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to know, either.

Her hand went to her hair, and she tugged at the short ends with frustration. But she’d left it loose. She felt like a damn teenager, swinging between different moods; one moment cutting her hair, the other tying it again, and the next leaving it loose again—all in one fucking day.

No. She left it loose this time, a bit ashamed to tie it again. _God, damn you, Rick Grimes! Damn you and your stupid speeches to hell and back!_

As they were in the kitchen, looking for food, Amanda decided it was really the time for a talk.

There had been three rotters inside the house; one stuck in the bathroom, the other two in the bedroom. This time Lizzie hadn’t tried to feed them, not at all. They’d put them down with relative ease, like the girl had been doing it for a long time, still as cool as ice. Amanda remembered of all the people in the prison, Lizzie had managed to bond with Carol; the woman who had killed two sick people in cold blood to protect her own lot.

The inclinations were quite clear, and Amanda had never been dumb.

And it was still so ironic that they’d already been dead if it weren’t for Carol and Lizzie.

Then again, the world always had a sick sense of humor. “Lizzie,” Amanda called out to the girl, opening one of the cupboards in the kitchen. “Do you know why we killed those men back in the prison?” she asked.

Pausing, the tall girl half turned to her. “To protect each other,” she repeated Carol’s words. “Because we need to be strong and protect each other.”

“Yes, and because they were…bad people,” Amanda stated, as calm as she could manage.

“Bad—” Lizzie asked, turning completely to her. “How do you know they were bad?”

Stopping completely, Amanda directed all of her attention to the girl. “It’s not easy to know, Lizzie,” she started truthfully. “Perhaps in another life, those people weren’t bad, but here with us, they were bad,” she tried to explain, hoping the girl would make the distinction. “They—they had a chance to do the best thing for all of us. A way out. But they didn’t want to do it. They chose the easy way—wanted to take what we had…wanted all of it for themselves. They didn’t want to share.”

Lizzie stopped for a second and gave her another look. “You didn’t drink from the bottle this morning,” she told Amanda. “You made us drink and told Mika to make Rick drink the rest when he wakes up.”

Amanda nodded. “Yes. Because we should share what we own. Because that’s what…families… good people do. They share. I’m bigger than you and Mika, and Rick is injured. He needs water more than me. I can wait. We’ll find food and water, and I’ll drink. But until then I need to wait.”

“Because that’s what good people do?” Lizzie asked, sounding almost curious.

“Yes,” Amanda answered without hesitation. “They protect each other, like you protected us. But—” Kneeling in front of the girl, she leaned forward. “I know what you did with those rats and cats, Lizzie. You should stop it. I know—you…you’re curious, and feel…lost, but you need to have a code. It can be your anchor.”

“How?” the girl questioned.

“Hurting others…animals—and people…” Amanda tried to explain again. The girl needed to have something to keep her… _anchored_ , a code of sorts, a clear line to make the moral distinctions. Amanda had no idea if it would work, but she—she had to try.

“You can’t hurt everyone—but you can… _choose_ ,” she continued. “They’re really some bad people and animals out there. Bad people and animals that try to hurt us. Rotters—” she gestured with her head inside the house. “The dead, they’re not your friends, Lizzie. They’re like animals that we…we should be afraid of.” She paused. “Is there any animal you’re afraid of?”

The girl paused for a second before she whispered. “Bats—bats scared me… I saw them in a cavern once. Couldn’t sleep for days.”

Feeling that she caught a very good point, Amanda nodded. “Yes. Bats are scary. They drink blood, make us sick. Rotters are like that, too. They drink blood, eat our flesh, and make us sick. We—we should stay away from them, kill them if we can.”

The girl gave her a look, shaking her head, getting agitated again… “Nick—Nick is my friend!”

“No—” Amanda said calmly, but firmly, taking her hand to keep the girl calm, too. “It isn’t your friend, Lizzie. Nick isn’t with you anymore. Like your father. He’s gone to another place.”

Lizzie stayed quiet, keeping her hand still in Amanda’s. “Everyone says they went to a better place,” the girl remarked after a while, meeting her eyes. “Is it correct?”

“I don’t know…” Amanda answered truthfully. “No one does. We just want to believe they have because it feels better.”

Lizzie gave her another look, but shook her head, taking her hand back. “That doesn’t make me feel better—” She paused. “Mika says I’m weird—says something wrong with me,” the girl told her with a small voice, and it hurt Amanda, a twinge in her chest throbbing. “If—if I have…a code, I—I’d be a good person too?” she asked.

“I—I don’t know,” Amanda answered truthfully again. “You can try. We all can try. We all—sometimes it’s the best we can do…try.” She swallowed. “Before all this started, there was a man, Lizzie. A very bad man. Do you know I was a cop, right?” The girl nodded at her. “He—he was hurting children…drugging them with poison. We wanted to catch him so he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, but—but he slipped away. The world isn’t always a fair place. In fact, most of the time it’s unfair, Lizzie, like how you lost your mom and dad and Nick. This guy…he got out. We couldn’t put him in prison. One day, though, I met him in a dark alley. He—tried to kill me—drew his gun, but I killed him first. It was the first time I killed someone, and I wasn’t proud of it, but a part of me was also relieved—relieved that he couldn’t hurt any children anymore.”

Lizzie nodded firmly. “I—I’d like to stop bad people from hurting children, too.” Her eyes found her green ones. “I’d like to have a code, Amanda.”

“Good—” Amanda nodded, too, feeling a bit more relieved. She knew they weren’t out of the woods with the girl yet, but it was a start. They still needed to manage a lot of things, but if she could at least understand the concept of good and bad, things would be easier. It remained such a little distinction between them nowadays, but it was still there.

“I know everything is very confusing with the world now,” she told the girl then. “We’re confused most of the time as well. But we need to keep it simple, Lizzie, so we’d know what’s important—” she remembered Rick’s words… “It’s _us_ , and our code is very simple. We kill the dead and don’t hurt the living unless they try to hurt us or others.”

As if she understood, Lizzie nodded with certainty again. “Like those people in the prison.”

“Like those people in the prison.”

They fell into silence then and went back to check the kitchen. Less than a minute later, Lizzie drew back from her cupboard to hand her a bottle, a bottle of unopened water, with a smile. “It’s your turn now, Amanda,” the girl told her. “You need to have your share.”

Smiling a bit, Amanda took the bottle and had her share.

# # #

They returned an hour later just before Rick was _really_ about to leave the house and look for them. By the time she knocked on the door, he’d become so furious, he felt anger boiling through him strong enough to dim the pain surging through his body.

Grunting under his breath, Rick pushed the cupboard away from the entrance he’d pulled into place and untied the wires that they’d secured the door’s knob with. He opened the door.

In their hands, they were holding two garbage bags, and Lizzie gave him a big smile, lifting her arm to show him her bag. “We found food and water.”

Bowing her head, Amanda gave the girl a little smile as Rick glared. Her eyes catching his glare, her smile vanished, and she let out a small sigh.

Good.

She _at least_ knew he was angry. Good.

He closed the door behind them and secured it again. His eyes glued on hers, he ordered the girls. “Girls, stay here. _You_ —” he hissed at her, jerking his head up. “Upstairs.”

She let out another sigh, but turning around wordlessly, she started climbing up.

Rick followed her. She went inside the bedroom. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed after he closed the door behind them, just like he’d been asking in his mind for an hour. He advanced on her without waiting for an answer. “Taking her out like that!” he almost shouted. “Amanda, have you lost your mind?”

They seriously had no idea how Lizzie would respond to what happened yesterday. She was keeping her calm, but for how long? They knew nothing. The girl was a time bomb that they had no inkling how to handle, and _she_ had taken her out, without a word!

He’d passed the hour, worrying, fearing…like they had problem enough _already_! They…they should leave. He should find Carl and Judith.

He had to find his children. He—he couldn’t do this.

“Rick—” Amanda started, raising her hands in front of her as if to settle him down. “I know you're upset, but I had no choice. We need food and water, and there’s nothing here and—”

“A-and you think the best idea was to take the girl out?” he asked in disbelief, cutting her. “Are you fucking kidding me?” This time he shouted. “ _Why_ didn’t you wait for me?”

“Why, you were out cold, Rick!” she snapped back in a hiss, “Moaning your wife’s name in your sleep! Sorry!”

He stared at her. He must’ve heard incorrect…He couldn’t… “Amanda—”

“Look—” she cut him off. “I—I needed to talk to her. We needed to deal with it. And I did—” She took a step closer, and her voice losing her agitation, it softened. “Rick, I think—I think I did. I think I managed to—reach her. Taught her the difference between good and bad… What she should—what she shouldn’t…. Gave her a code.”

Rick shook his head… “ _What_ are you talking about?” He got closer, leaning toward her. He could see where this was going… “Amanda, do you even hear yourself talking? You’re losing it.”

She drew back, flinching… “A-am I losing it?” she asked, looking at him incredulously, “Excuse me!”

He gave her a hard look. “Pack up,” he ordered. “We’re leaving.”

That was enough. He couldn’t do this…

“You’re not well enough!” Amanda cried out.

“I am!” Rick shot back adamantly. “We’re leaving now. We need to get to the funeral home. And—” He stopped for a breath before he stated, “And we have to leave Lizzie.”

“What?”

“We _can't_ take her with us, Amanda.” It—it was madness. She'd almost brought down the fences feeding walkers. No. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t always keep an eye on the girl. He couldn't let her stay with Judith. He couldn’t risk it.

“We'll leave her food and water,” he continued. Amanda shook her head feverishly in protest. “She's a ticking time bomb, Amanda. We--we’re not equipped to deal with this, _you_ told me that. I don’t want to do it, but we got no other choice.”

She shook her head again, walking to him closer. “We _do_ have a choice, Rick. I told you I—”

“Amanda, stop! Stop it!” he cut off, his hands rising in the air. “It’s Gorman all over again. You’re getting obsessed—”

“ _ME_?” she cut him off too, shouting back at him, her eyes widened. “ _You_ —you of all people are accusing me of being obsessed? Really?”

His face jaw setting, his jaw clenched, and he knew they were going to have that _fight_ , too. He nodded at her. “Okay, all right. Get on with it, Amanda. I know you’re mad at me for what happened. I know you blame me. So, go on—” he challenged.

“God, you’re an idiot!” she hissed angrily, taking another step closer to him. “I don’t blame you for what happened, you moron. I blame you for not seeing it for what it was.”

He didn’t even flinch. “And what it was, Amanda?” he asked coldly.

“A lost battle!” she yelled. “We—we should’ve left as soon as we saw that tank, Rick! You know it.”

He shook his head with a derisive snort. “And go _where_ , Amanda?” he snapped in return. “Do you have any idea what is like to be on the road?”

“You talked like you know, but you have no idea…” he went on, pressing further, getting even closer to her. “We passed more than six months out here in winter while you were at Grady, in your precious uniform and bun, making other women whore out themselves for you so you could keep watching your damn _movies_ —” he spat as her face turned expressionless—“While my boy—my son almost ate _dog food_! I stopped him at the last minute, and he got angry at me for _stopping_ him!”

He shook his head again, another glare fixed on her, and he was furious, so furious—at her—at himself—at everything—but mostly at her in the moment, because she couldn’t let it go and do what he told her just for once… “So don’t stand there, acting like you know what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes on him, she nodded, swallowing. “You’re right—” Her words sounded like she was forcing them out. “I don’t know. But it’s easier for us to talk now, isn’t it? While there’s still breath left in our lungs. Tell that to Dr. Hershel, tell that to Beth—tell it to Maggie,” she said coldly. “I’m sure they would think the same.”

“You know what your problem is, Rick,” she continued, shaking her head, “you’re a drama queen. You don’t want to see what’s in front of you.”

“That man…he wasn’t only bark, bark, bark,” she snapped, her voice clearing, a fire invoking in it instead. “Remember your own damn words! He wasn’t worth the risk, not when there was a tank involved. And _you_ knew it. You just didn’t want to see it… didn’t want to leave your damn prison. Instead you stood there—made your stupid speech, how we all could live together—how we all could change—and _look_ at us now.”

His eyes never wavered from her as he took another step in her, and they stood inches apart from each other. “I _am_ —” For a split second, his eyes moved over her hair, then turned back to her. “I _am_ looking at you,” he rasped. “Tell me, who are you mad at, really? At me for making my stupid speech or at yourself for believing it? For believing _me_?” He paused. “Why is your hair still loose, Amanda?”

She looked back at him as if she wanted to strike him, and her chin trembled as her eyes glistened, but she stayed motionless. Rick shook his head. “You know what your problem is—” he shot her own words back at her, turning aside to leave. “You’re an even worse drama queen than me.”

“I hate you!” she whispered to his back, and Rick heard tears in her voice. “I fucking hate you!”

He let out a little scoff, still walking to the door. “You hate that I’m right.”

“I’m _not_ leaving her, do you hear me?” she hissed. “And I’m not going to the funeral home, either!”

His hand halted on the knob, he turned around. “Amanda, that’s enough! I’m tired of your episodes—” he hissed back. “Get ready, we’re leaving.”

“I told you I’m _not_! I’ll go to the tracks and look for others. They’re still out there. I’m not leaving them behind. You go and look for your kids. I’ll find Maggie, Joan, and Noah.”

“Amanda—” His voice rose as he walked back to her. “For Christ’s sake… _enough_!”

“I’ll tell you where the funeral home is, so you can go—” she spat and started walking too, passing ahead of him. Rick blocked her way toward the door. “Get out of my way—”

“ _Amanda_ —” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose as she pushed him off.

“I said get out of my—” she started again, but a scream echoed from downstairs—and Mika called—

“AMANDA!”

Pushing him away this time for real, Amanda lunged out the door. Rick wobbled out it, too, as fast as he could manage. By the time he made it out of the room and to the staircase, Amanda was already downstairs. “Lizzie—NO!”

Rick saw the scene and sprinted to the staircase. Lizzie—her gun…her gun was in her hand, and she was shaking her head… “Lizzie, put the gun down,” Amanda said as Rick jogged down the stairs two steps at a time, the wound in his leg forgotten. “Put it down.”

“I heard you talking—” the girl told her, still shaking her head. “You’re gonna leave me. You’re like everyone else…”

“Lizzie—I won’t leave you. I’m not—” Amanda whispered, taking a step closer. Rick wanted to shout at her to stay away—

“You—you told me—” the girl said, her eyes still on Amanda, and Rick felt his stomach roil.

He hurried down the stairs. “Lizzie, put the gun down—” Rick repeated Amanda's words, taking the last step. “We’re going to talk about it.

Amanda twisted to glare at him. “ _You_ … stay the fuck out of this!” He took a step closer as Amanda turned back to the girl, “Lizzie—"

“You—you told me if I have a code—if I have a code—I’d…I’d be like you—good…” the girl raised the gun—towards Amanda...

_NO!_

Rick leaped; without any thought, without any notion, his wounds, his ribs, pain, everything fading in him… He just grabbed Amanda, and threw her behind him, shielding her completely behind his body.

“RICK!” she screamed as his arm coiled around her waist tightened to keep her behind him. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. No. He couldn't watch it happen again.

“Lizzie—” Rick opened his mouth, but the girl raised her arm, then without any warning, she turned it to her own head, and shot herself.

Rick watched in a slow motion—like a scene from a movie—the way her body fell to the ground… Amanda lunged from his back. Rick caught her at her waist again, stopping her as the girl dropped to the floor, dead. Mika cried out loud—so loud…

And holding Amanda tightly against his chest, Rick watched the girl on the floor as blood started pooling around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, this chapter as you can see--is kinda emotional, and huge.  
> Lizzie--was a real challenge, and I wanted to create a bond between her and Amanda, like how she got it with Carol, and then I remembered Dexter, and thought Amanda would like to give her a chance. The thing is Rick could've never taken that risk with that girl--even after the girl saving their ass. So Amanda and Rick will need to clash too--and this possibly going to make a rift between them, too--a very intense one as Rick literally put himself in front of a gun for her at the end, but I also wanted to show the tolls of being on the road starting at the first morning.
> 
> I thought after hearing their talk, Lizzie would have had another episode, and losing it--understanding that she would be 'weird' no matter what, this time decides to end it--perhaps go to a better place. Lizzie's story was so sad in the show, and I wanted to keep it at the same way, too. 
> 
> Needless to say, I was angling them to have that fight too--because Amanda needs to understand Rick's POV too--I mean, I felt so bad for Carl, trying to eat dog food at beginning of Season 3, Amanda doesn't know about that kind of desperation. And well, I just had to make them shot at each other "I hate you. You hate I'm right." like in Adaptation. :D
> 
> So, the next, will they try to find others first like Amanda demanded or will go the funeral home like Rick demanded?


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, guys! Thank you for the comments for the last chapter. It was great to hear from you.  
> Thanks!  
> This's gonna be a short chapter after the last one, because I need to slow down the pace--as they continue to be miserable, lol.

**XXVI.**

Amanda broke out of Rick’s grip and ran to Lizzie. She sat on the floor beside the girl, pulling her head into her lap, her own head bowed, and she started crying. She didn't care about the bloody mess of the head wound, not now.

Why—why did she never ever manage to do something right? She almost got Beth killed—now she got Lizzie death.

Why?

She—she only wanted to help. Lizzie deserved a chance like all of them.

“Amanda—” she heard his voice, now small, so small, but raising her head, shaking it, she glared at Rick.

She hated—no…no. She had to find another word to convey what she felt for Rick Grimes right now. Hate simply didn’t sound _enough_ for the job.

He crouched on Lizzie’s other side, and his hand reached over her head. In answer, Amanda pulled the girl closer to her chest. “ _Don’t_ touch her!” she spat with venom practically dripping from her words.

Rick closed his eyes, one eye still half swollen, and heaved a sigh. Amanda heard the tiredness in it again, but she didn’t fucking care anymore—didn’t care about his weariness, his sadness, or the way he’d placed himself between her and a loaded gun—

She—just didn’t care. She only wanted to hate him! Everything about him; his every word, his every look—his every— _everything_!

“ _You did this!_ ” Amanda spat again as Mika dropped on her knees beside her next to her sister, already crying, her sobs coming out of her brokenly.

Tears were running over her cheeks, too—and—and…

Then she heard it; snarls and growls coming outside the door. The gunshot. First their shouting match, yelling, then Lizzie and the gunshot. So stupid…so stupid… Loud thuds started as the dead hit the door, pushing—creating even more clamor.

Rick pushed back to his feet and limped to the window hurriedly. He peeked out the window, Amanda still could see under her bowed head, then he turned to her. “We gotta go. There's almost a dozen, and more are coming up.”

Go?

Leaving the girl for rotters as fresh food?

Amanda shook her head. They—they should at least bury her, make a funeral, make a memorial… She—she might say a word herself too—would say…she’d been trying—like each of them. What kind of cruelty was this that they couldn’t even say goodbye to their dead? Mourn them—

His hand clutching her upper arm, Rick started pulling her upward. “Leave me alone!” she yelled at him. “I’m not leaving her!”

His grip tightened over her bicep. “Amanda—don’t be ridiculous,” he countered, his voice no longer soft, still small but firm. “Yell at me later if you want, but we’re leaving _now_.”

She didn’t. She didn’t even want to yell at him anymore.

“Go away. Take Mika—go find your kids—” she told him in a whisper, something inside her burning out. “I’m not coming.”

“Yeah, like it’s gonna happen—” he muttered, pulling her up again as she yanked herself away. She gave him a hard push with her other hand—bloodied hand—she was covered with blood once again… “Let go of me!”

“Amanda!” he rasped at her sternly. “Stop it, dammit! She’s dead!”

Her eyes finding his, craning her neck up, she glared at him, the fire finding her again. “You’re some kind of a cold-hearted sonofabitch, Rick Grimes.”

“I’m _not_ a drama queen—” he clipped in return. “Instead of herself, she would’ve killed _you_!” She still kept glaring at him, even though despite her anguish, she still knew what he said was true. That gun—that gun pointed at her first and Lizzie… Lizzie could’ve done it… “She was a ticking time bomb, Amanda,” Rick remarked, releasing his grip, his tone this time a bit softer, gentler.

Amanda knew his words were true, too, again—god burn her soul, but she _knew_ … But it didn’t hurt any less, didn’t make it better, either.

“Don’t you want to see Beth again?” Rick asked with the same deep but softer voice as the snarls and growls grew louder and louder. Hearing them, he snapped his head toward the window, and Amanda knew she lost the battle.

She slowly let go of the girl and started standing up as Rick limped to a closet beside the door. “Get her here. Quick—” he gestured at her, and Amanda understood. They at least were going to hide her. A sort of a grave. She lifted the girl’s dead body with difficulty and carried her to the closet. She placed Lizzie inside, but it wasn’t enough. They at least should cover her. She remembered the old blanket on the couch. She trotted over the couch and took it and laid it over Lizzie. Rick closed the lid then, and his eyes found her.

Amanda didn’t say anything.

“Back door—” Rick stated, walking to Lizzie’s gun that was still at the ground and taking it, he gestured at Mika. “Mika, take the bags—” He pointed at the food they’d brought. “And come over here. Stay between us.”

Amanda looked at the crying ten year old girl as she came between them, holding the bags. Rick drew his knife, tucking the gun at his back, and took point. She tried to get her head clear. She hated him to her core right now, but he was still shot and stabbed. It wouldn’t do for him to take point. She walked to the front and took the position from him.

“Take our six,” she ordered with a flat voice, getting ahead of him, but he cut her off, blocking her way again.

“I’m fine—” he said and she opened her mouth, but he cut her off again, growls coming closer and more in clamor. His eyes checked around again. “C’mon—hurry—” he turned and started walking—limping away, taking the lead, and this time Amanda let him. She was just too fucking tired of fighting with him. She didn’t care anymore.

There were already three rotters outside at the back door, trying to get inside. Silently, Rick killed two of them as soon as he opened the door. Amanda took care of the last one, keeping Mika in her sight. Still silent, he gestured to usher them out to the road from the house’s backyard.

The road’s old country pavement made little noise as they ran away from the house, fallen leaves crunching under their heels softly. Yet, they encountered no dead or living. Fifteen or so minutes later, Rick moved them away from the main road as well, and they dived into the woods.

She didn’t know how long they ran in the woods, Rick hopping hurriedly still at point, before they stopped. Amanda leaned against an oak tree, breathing loudly. The short jogging was nothing for her usual standards, at this latitude she could run for miles without breaking a sweat, but she still felt out of breath. Mika was beside her at the tree, her sobs quieted, turning to silent hiccups. Rick was supporting his hand on another tree next to theirs, his shoulders hunched as he leaned forward. In the woods, they were back in the woods again. She felt a cold calmness settle upon her.

Rick’s eyes cut over to them. “Ya okay?” he said lowly, eyeing them.

Mika nodded meekly, but Amanda just gave a terse jerk of her head. She turned to the little girl. “There has to be a protein bar in the bag,” she told Mika. Her voice was clear now, her labored breath quelled. “Take it out,” she directed. “Half of it is yours. The other half is for Rick.”

Rations were good. They needed to eat, and Amanda needed to keep her mind on something. She’d thrown a bit when they’d cleared the house. Lizzie—the name appeared in her mind, but Amanda forced the shopping bag in Mika’s hand. She should eat, too. She hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday’s early supper, her stomach was quasi empty, but she didn’t want to eat anything.

Rick looked at the protein bar and took a little bite, as if it were bitter medicine. They ate the snack in silence, no one making any sound, aside Mika’s small, subtle sobs. A few minutes later, Rick turned to her. “Funeral home—” he questioned. “Can you find it through the woods?”

Amanda shrugged in a way that would mean both. She’d never been a good tracker in the woods, but she knew where the house was. From the city, that was it. The woods were another matter, but they would see. She gave him a clear set of directions about its whereabouts, like she’d done to Daryl, then concluded, “You take Mika and go. I’m going to the tracks first. I’ll come by tomorrow morning.”

Silently, Rick stared at her first long, playing with the package of the bar in his hand, then he threw it away. “No.”

“I—”

Shaking his head, he cut her off. “I’m tired—really tired of this, Amanda.”

“I’m _not_ asking your permission! I’m not asking you to come with me, either—” she snapped in return as cold as she could manage. “I'm _sorry_ but I _fail_ to see the problem.”

Another look found her before he simply stated, “You’re a city cop. You can’t find your way in the woods. You couldn’t even find the damn creek when we met,” he remarked what she just thought, his voice sounding only matter-of-fact, and for a second, Amanda really hated him again—for being _right_. “If you go for the trails, you can’t find your way back. You’ll get lost.”

“I will manage.”

“Amanda—” he uttered out her name in a dragged out sigh. He limped closer toward her, but when he spoke the next, there was a lilt in his tone, agitated, but almost…mesmerizing. “Listen to me, I’m sorry for what happened. I am _truly_. I wish things could be different, but we both know it’s an empty wish,” he said with the same tiredness he always had, sounding earnest.

“I want to find them, _too_ , Amanda,” he continued, leaning forward to catch her eyes. “Glenn…Maggie, they _are_ my family. Without Glenn, I couldn’t even find Lori and Carl, I told you.” He paused, his eyes still on hers then they moved to Mika. “How long would it take to get to the funeral home?” he asked, turning back to her.

A little frown knitted her brows. “Four hours or so, I guess—” she answered, and darted a look at his leg. “With your leg—even more.”

He nodded, craning his neck to check the sun. “It’s getting late in the morning, but we can make it there just after noon. Then Daryl can go out and look for the others. He’s a better tracker than both of us. He knows these woods like his own. He—”

Understanding where he was going with it, Amanda interjected. “No. There won’t be enough sunlight left by the time he comes back here and starts checking the trails. They wouldn’t make that long.” She shook her head. “I want to find Beth. I really do, but Beth has Daryl now. The others don’t. Joan. Noah. They’re not prepared for it. Maggie and Glenn might survive, but the others won’t hold out long without help. You _know_ it.”

No. Time was of the essence. She wasn’t going to screw up this time.

Rick nodded. “Okay.”

Amanda returned the gesture swiftly, but somehow…surprised that he accepted.

Well, she wasn’t asking his permission; he wasn’t her CO, just like Rick himself told her before, but the sentiment was still there. He’d stopped her before when she’d tried to look for Gorman, even telling her she could leave if she wanted. She guessed this was the end for them then. Perhaps it was really for the best. What they’d caused together… She felt—she truly didn’t know.

She was still so mad at him, still wanted to smash his head for what happened—but—but—breaking up their ways, staying alone—and Mika…? What they were going to do with Mika? The little girl who had no one in this fucking, cruel, shitty world filled with death and misery.

Her eyes skipped to the little girl beside her, then Rick nudged her elbow. “C’mon—let’s go—”

And Amanda stared…. He made a gesture with his head. “We shouldn’t waste the sunlight,” he remarked, sounding …agitated again. “I still want to go to the funeral home before the dark.”

“What?”

“We’re checking for others first, then we’ll go to the funeral home,” he stated.

“Rick—”

His voice raised again a notch. “Amanda, _enough_!” He took another step closer to her. “What do you want?” he asked, leaning over her. “Do you want us to look for others, or do you want to come with me to the funeral home?”

“But—”

He shook his head. “No buts. Either you come with me, or I go with you, but we’re _not_ splitting up.”

“Rick—it’s—I can’t. Carl—Judith…” She shook head. She couldn’t.

The woods _were_ dangerous. If something happened to his kids while Amanda made him look for others…or worse something happened to _him_ and his children lost their father, his baby girl lost her father… No, a lot of children had become orphans since yesterday. She couldn’t live with herself if something like that happened—and—and Rick…She paused for a second, frowning… And Rick—the bastard!

He knew it! Of course, he did! He could see right through her. _Why_ _is_ _your hair is still loose, Amanda?_ The fucking bastard! The fucking manipulative cold-hearted asshole!

Leaning closer, Amanda glared. “Are—a-are you trying to play with my damn conscience, Grimes?” she spat, sputtering the words. “You know I can’t risk it like this—” Her voice faltered, losing her hiss, and she confessed. “I—I can’t risk you and your kids like that—”

God, how easily she’d been played!

But in return, Rick just gave her a look, and bowing his head, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Amanda, I just walked in front of a gun for you,” he told her simply. “I can’t risk you, either.”

Wrong! Wrong! Everything was so wrong! They—she let out a breath… “Why?” the question came out of her even though she knew she shouldn’t ask. “Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know—” Rick answered, lifting his head, and Amanda knew he wasn’t lying. “I just…acted.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she decided to inform him: “I’m still _really_ angry at you for what happened today, Rick.”

He nodded in simple acceptance. “I know.”

“I reached her—” she insisted, but her eyes flickering toward Mika, she stopped, shaking her head. “I _did_. We should’ve handled this better.”

“Perhaps—” he replied with a small sigh. “We’re gonna talk about it later. _Now_ —what do we do?” He fixed her with a look. “What do you want?”

“ _Fine_. Lead the way!” Amanda snapped with another glare. “You already know it anyway.”

# # #

With all her sharp quills, claws, and teeth, Amanda Shepherd, as Rick had already noticed, had a very, very soft heart beneath her hard shell, especially for kids, a fact that amazed Rick the first time he saw it.

He’d gambled on her conscience not letting her keep him away from Carl and Judith, and even though she’d been smart enough to see through his act, in the end her decision was just what he expected.

He—he just couldn’t let her go out in the woods and get herself killed.

But he also had to find his children. He trusted Daryl, but that was a lot for only one a man. Two teenagers and a baby. Rick had to be there with them, because he belonged with his children. He had already failed way too much. He didn’t want to tempt fate again, especially not when those sonofabitches might come to their safe house. No. He wasn’t taking any risks anymore.

He remembered the girl holding the gun to her head, pulling the trigger. He—felt…honestly, he didn’t even know what he was feeling anymore.

Rick hadn’t lied. He really wished things would be different. But there were so many things he wished would’ve been different.

Amanda was right on that. He didn’t want to lose the prison, and here they were again… But the girl had been too much of a risk, a ticking time bomb, someone who couldn’t take this world. A part of him…a part of him even felt…relief knowing that she went without pain, without misery. He knew it was sick and cruel, he knew _he_ was sick and cruel. He just—

He didn’t know. His children. He had to find his children, everything else came after that.

But _apparently_ , in the meanwhile he also needed to keep Amanda _safely_ beside him. Then they would find Maggie and Glenn, the rest of his family and the others, too, if they could. Those were the only things Rick knew, and he was going to have to make peace with them for the time being.

The rest—Rick just didn’t know. There were no right choices in their lives anymore. They only had priorities.

Everything happened so crazily, so fast, now. He still could remember Lizzie raising the gun and the way he’d stepped in front of Amanda. He’d just acted. He hadn’t lied to her about that either. What he’d done—it wasn’t a carefully thought out decision. He’d just leapt in front of her, without a thought, almost an instinct, shielding her.

Things between them were getting even… more complicated, and he didn’t know what to think aside from the reality of his action; stepping in front of a loaded gun to protect her.

His eyes skipped to her as she walked slowly, her usual strong pace levelled to his limping, holding Mika’s hand as the girl walked between them, and none of them making any noise.

And his eyes moved to her loose hair for a breath, brushing over her shoulders, and he almost sighed, the imaginary her in his mind, letting her hair go free as Rick told them they all could change.

He guessed they needed to sit down and have another talk. Not a fight, not yelling in each other’s faces with swear words and accusations, but a _real_ talk. Even the thought of it was making his insides twist, his stomach coil. All in honesty, Rick just wanted to get to that safe house _with_ Amanda and see his children again. Keep them alive and safe. He—he just couldn’t do anything else right now.

Her directions for the safe house was from the main road that led from the prison, so Rick understood finding it navigating in the woods was going to take a lot of time.

If he’d let Amanda go alone, she would’ve never found her way back to the house in time. The highway was too dangerous for a lone survivor, either with the dead or with the living. She couldn’t leave. They had to go to the funeral home, _together_.

Though, Rick wasn’t sure what they were going to do when they got there. If they would really start searching immediately, or could they wait for a little. Would the kids be safe if they left? He didn’t know, and he had to get the scope of the scene before he made a decision.

He really wanted to find whoever he could manage, so he could get his people back together. He _knew_ Maggie and Glenn were out there somewhere, and if they could somehow manage to find her friends from Grady before it was too late, Rick would really feel much better. He could at least try to do it for her.

His eyes skipped over Amanda again as she walked quietly, holding Mika’s hand. The girl was getting into even worse shape. He glanced up to check the sun's position, craning his neck. It must be close to two hours now they had been walking. It was getting hotter, and from the angle of the sun, Rick surmised they were close to noon.

Rick missed his watch. It was an old, sturdy thing, but kept its function well enough, like most of his father’s stuff. He wondered if his father would’ve ever allowed things to go like this, but Rick suppressed that thought. He’d also lost Carol’s watch in the prison, with all their belongings, whatever was left from their old world.

Rick then realized Carl had lost their one—one and only family photo, too. That photo was the one thing they had left for Carl from Lori, and Judy—his baby girl was never going to have a chance to see her mother, to at least know how she looked like. The bitterness of that loss pierced him through his chest and hurt even worse than all the wounds in his body.

 _I’m sorry—_ Rick passed in his mind, but to whom he was saying it, he didn’t know any longer.

# # #

The early fall sun was hot at noon, almost scalding as the almost-fifteen year old boy stayed on the porch of the funeral home, waiting—waiting for them to come.

Carl knew his father was going to come. He always came back. He’d come back, found them before. He could do it again. Carl was still mad at his dad for losing their home, _again_ , for not fighting, for not keeping it safe, for making them grow crops, feed the pigs instead, but—but the teenager wanted him back.

If he were dead—if he were dead—Carl couldn’t tell Rick Grimes any of it, so…he needed to come back.

“They’ll come—” Beth told him, standing beside him on the porch, leaning against the white railings. She was holding Judy in her arms, looking out into the woods. Her eyes were red from tears, but her voice was fierce, determined. “They’ll come back,” she said again.

The teenager wondered if his friend was trying to convince herself or him but didn’t say anything. His friend—his friend had lost her father yesterday. Another failure of his dad… He was so angry with his dad, but he wanted him _back_.

Beside him, Beth muttered again. “We just have to keep a little bit of faith.”

The almost-fifteen year old boy tried to look for the word in his heart, but only found emptiness inside. With a last look, teary blue eyes and shining eyelashes, his beautiful friend turned and started walking inside the building.

Carl sat down on the porch, took out his gun and started cleaning it.

# # #

The seventeen year old girl turned and walked back in the funeral home from the porch. She walked downstairs to find their protector, still holding Judy in her arms.

Daryl was in the basement, where a dead person was laying on the slab, waiting to be buried, now perhaps waiting forever. Beth felt…sad for the man. She remembered her own daddy—remembered the blade… She stopped the thought, burying her head against Judy’s neck. The baby scent calmed her as her tears wetted her sweet pink cardigan.

Stifling her silent sobs, Beth raised her head. The air was stale and funky with the smell of formaldehyde, and it was damp in the basement, but cool. It felt like something was sucking all the warmness inside, even down the metal cupboards attached to the walls.

Inside the cupboards, Daryl was looking for supplies. He’d been checking the building since last night. Beth turned to the dead body again and sighed, her father in her mind— “Do—do you think we should bury him?”

Their protector angled his head up from where he was bent down and gave her a look, his hand still holding the metal door of the cupboard. “What?” He rolled the question over his tongue with his heavy accent.

Beth pointed with her head. “He’s ready for his ceremony,” she explained. “Do you think we should bury him?” she asked again.

Daryl gave her another look. “Why?”

The way he asked sounded almost…innocent, as if…as if…why bother in a world like this? Why would it matter? Beth tried to find an answer… What’s the point of living if you don’t have hope, her father had asked her at the end of their first month in the prison. Beth remembered the way Carl looked at the tree line, waiting for his dad, then her eyes moved to Judy… She—she hoped her friend and Judy wouldn’t be orphaned like she was now…

And—and her father would want her to do this…because…because… “Because it’s appropriate—” she told the hunter, walking closer to the metal slab. “Someone—someone took all the trouble to prepare it… Someone cared. I guess we should…honor it.” She paused, her eyes finding the body…white, cold, and…dead. Her eyes almost filled with tears again… “I—I wish we could bury my dad,” she whispered.

Their protector looked at her in silence, then nodded. “’Kay. I’ll dig a grave later,” he said, “then we bury him.”

Beth perked up her head, turning to him. “Really?” She was—surprised. Daryl…Well, Daryl was a great man, she knew, but he was hardly sentimental.

He gave a shrug in response. “Don’t got no other shit to do, anyway.”

The teenager nodded at that, bouncing the baby girl in her arms, and told herself they were lucky, told herself there was still hope…like her father always said…they just needed to keep faith—

—from outside a lone shout—a shout of surprise, joy, and relief all at once echoed in the basement…

_“DAD!”_

The seventeen year old girl smiled ruefully, this time her tears breaking free, but she couldn’t be sure of sadness or happiness anymore…but it didn’t matter.

They were back. Soon they would find each other again. They—they just needed to keep a little bit of faith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So--here we are... They're back at the funeral home, and I wanted to make a different thing at the end from Carl and Beth's POV, being a bit more anonymous, and I think I'm going to keep this up with Maggie, Daryl, and others too, when I feel it's needed. I just felt like the story needs a breath of others' POV as things getting too heavy with Rick and Amanda.
> 
> And, the decision. Now, first of all--Rick would've NEVER left the kids there and gone to look for others, yeah, I felt the same, too--it's just not him. His priority is always his own children at first--but he understands that he can't let Amanda split either after he puts himself in front of a gun for her. Amanda is not being in her mind, either, but, and she got some valid points too--as Beth and kids having Daryl, but others not--so this happened. Rick, being manipulative--and getting her accept what he wants, playing on her conscience and I think Daryl still a safer bet, too, as he knows the woods better than anyone. Amanda is terrible in the woods, she got lost at the start of the story, having no idea about her whereabouts.
> 
> I'm really curious of your thoughts, and glad to hear them--for now they're all back at the funeral home. The next--any guess?
> 
> P.S. As tomorrow, I'm finally returning back to work--real work, I mean, to office, so--lol, I won't be able to write as a possessed woman from now on. God, I really forgot how it feels--getting up and going to office. Tomorrow will be interesting.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god! This chapter couldn't just finish, because so much stuff needed to happen.  
> I'm almost sleeping now, but wanted to upload before I did--so no proofreading, either. Beware. :)

**XXVII.**

The tall, twenty-four year old young woman kept walking toward where the tracks met, her pace slow, but decisive. This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be.

With each step, the young woman told her herself to keep up the faith, just as Beth would say. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, behind her eyes she saw her little sister’s smile—her wide blue eyes shining, her hair kissed by sunshine… and she looked at Maggie with a smile, and said… _now, sis, it wouldn’t hurt you to have a little bit of faith._

Tears prickled her eyes, and Maggie blinked them away. Glenn took her hand in his as they walked on the tracks, falling behind the others. Her husband’s hand was a better warmth than the scalding sun in the sky, and it warmed her insides.

“We’ll find her—” Glenn told her softly, and Maggie believed him like always, because he always kept the faith even when she couldn’t, and Maggie loved him for that. “We’ll find all of them, baby—”

Tightening her fingers around his, Maggie nodded silently. They would. She’d already lost too much. She couldn’t lose her little sister, too. She could not.

She would _not_.

She stopped when her eyes fell on the wooden board beside the tracks: the same words again. It looked like a tagline from a long-forgotten movie, a beacon of light through the darkness that they survived in… Maggie hoped it wasn’t a false one—and she also tried not to think the home she’d lost—or her family—

No.

Like her father always said, it was the darkest before the dawn, and this _wasn’t_ the end. It couldn’t be.

Her eyes stayed on the words, black letters on the wooden surface… _Sanctuary for all. Those who arrive survive._

Her eyes moved and fell on the lone limping walker lingering beside it, and she looked at _it_.

Then she knew.

Her eyes still on the dead thing, Maggie marched to it, drawing out her knife.

No. It wasn’t the end. Not yet.

She stabbed the walker in the rotting temple with a swift stroke and knelt down as the decaying corpse fell at her feet.

# # #

A few feet ahead of Amanda, Rick ran a few remaining steps to the pathway to the funeral home and knelt down on one knee as his son rushed at him from the porch. He held his arms wide open for the teenager.

“ _Dad!_ ” Amanda watched as Carl threw himself at his father, Rick hugging him back tightly, and for a little while the world felt like a bit better place.

It was only a _bit_ more, though, as there was still that cutting bitter sorrow and weariness in her. But it still felt a bit better seeing them like this. The anger was still there, but so was the relief.

She wished—she wished—she wished…. Amanda closed her eyes, recalling his words… _I wish things would be different, but we both know it’s a wish_ _for naught_ _._

Of course, she knew. Amanda always believed thinking of what ifs was a waste of time and believed they just had to play the hand they’d been dealt. His voice cut through her thoughts… _It could’ve been you…_ and his eyes stared at hers. _I couldn’t risk you._

Then she saw Lizzie, too, lifting her head up to give her a little smile… _It’s your turn now, Amanda. You need to have your share._

Her share of what?

Misery, pain, and loss?

Hot tears burned her eyes, and Amanda freed her hand from Mika’s. She didn’t want to cry, at least not until she found some solitude, somewhere no one would see her tears leak… then Amanda saw Beth emerge on the porch, after hearing Carl’s joyful exclamation. She was holding Judith, the little baby angel in her arms, and Daryl was a few steps behind them. Stopping just past the threshold, Beth looked at her then like lightning, she lunged forward and scurried down from the porch.

Something in Amanda snapped, too, just like the moment when she’d learned about Dawn and the vaccines. It wasn’t a furious tempest of rage, thought. It felt like a giant wave of sorrow and relief flood over her, and Amanda felt like she was drowning, but she didn’t fight, she…she just let it.

She jogged off to Beth. She just wanted her little friend, wanted to hug her—feel that…warm camaraderie. She—she’d so missed the girl.

Before they were in each other’s company, Amanda caught Rick starting to do the same. His eyes catching sight of his baby girl, Rick rushed toward the teenager, too, and soon they were all in each other’s embrace.

For a second, Amanda felt tense as Rick’s right arm held Judith across Beth’s back as the other held hers. Their bodies were inches apart from each other in their three-sided hug, their heads so close she could feel their breaths warm on her skin.

There was hesitation in Rick’s stillness, too. The next moment, he looped his arms around their waists further. Beth moved willingly with Judith and pressed herself at his side as Amanda stool rigid, her back straining.

His hand laid across the small of her back, and a subtle, so subtle pressure nudged her. The flood washed over her again, and Amanda let it, so tried to fight now, even though a part of her hated herself for it. She let him pull her to his other side.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught him, his eyes red and prickling, and there was a faint, small smile across his lips as his hand played with Judith’s hair. Rick bowed his head and kissed the baby’s head. Before she knew it, Amanda started smiling too, she just couldn’t help it. Seeing them together like that, she couldn’t help herself…

Carl came and hugged them from Beth’s side. Beth let out a sobbing hitched breath that sounded close to a laugh, heaving heavily, then twisted her head around half backwards. “Hey, Daryl—wanna come for the group hug?”

Amanda darted her eyes to the tracker, as well, between the arms held her, one loose soft flesh, the other tight muscles. “Shit, no,” Daryl objected, shaking his head. “Jus’ gon’ watch it from here.”

All of them made out throaty sounds, laugh or sobs, Amanda wasn’t sure anymore. Beth looked at her. “I knew you’d be back—” her young friend whispered to her.

In return, Amanda dropped all the pretenses and just started crying.

She was back. They were back, and she felt—she felt—glad, despite everything. She couldn’t help herself.

# # #

When the euphoric relief finding each other wore off, they settled in the hall of the funeral home.

Rick glanced through the window he was standing beside, his hip propped against the wall. His eyes wandering over the front yard, he checked the position of the sun. It was getting late. If they were going to go out today and start looking for others, they needed to act quickly.

Yet each of them was lingering now, quietly sitting in the memorial room. Even Amanda was sitting pensively in silence, her head bowed. He half expected her to demand that Daryl should leave as soon as they set foot inside the funeral home, but it seemed their reunion had caught her off guard, too. She’d been as tense as a drawn bow outside at first, but hesitating, let him pull her closer in the end as her tears ran free.

It was a start, Rick told himself. They still needed to deal with what happened, but it was going to be okay. It had to be. He had to make things right again. He didn’t know how right now, but he was going to find out. They—they just needed to…stay alive until he did.

They were together again, and that was what mattered the most.

Though now that they were together again, Rick wasn’t sure how they should proceed next.

He’d wanted to get the fell of the safe house, but nothing he’d seen so far made his worries settle down. The house was everything he would expect from Grady or Dawn; even their safe house was clean, pristine, and kept in perfect order. But there was dust everywhere, so Rick knew it’d been a while since Amanda’s former colleagues were here, which was troubling him greatly.

They laid Judith down on the couch beside the door with Mika, placing the chairs along the edge. Mika had immediately fallen asleep, exhausted by all the way they’d travelled today without stopping. 

Amanda was sitting beside the girl, her hand still holding Mika’s as the girl didn’t let it go even while she slept. Beth sat down next to Judith. Carl had taken the seat in front of the piano beside the window where Rick stood. Daryl was perched atop the empty coffin on the bier in front of the room.

“How did ya make out?” Daryl questioned, finally breaking the silence. “Where did ya pass the night?”

“Amanda took us in a house in a town close to the prison,” Rick explained. “I got injured. We had to stay inside—” He waved over his leg and his side. “Walkers—they were everywhere,” he continued. “We had to turn south. Couldn’t make it north.”

Daryl nodded, but Rick saw Carl’s lips clenched. The joy of seeing them had left Carl first. Carl started darting those looks at Rick after they settled back inside the house. Rick read the silent accusation in them even though Carl didn’t utter a word.

Rick knew his son was furious with him. He recognized those looks all too well. His boy directed them at him whenever he got mad—whenever he got mad with growing their crops and plants, feeding the pigs…

Rick wanted to sigh but held it back at the tip of his tongue. Whatever it was, he was going to deal with it, as just he was going to deal with Amanda and her dissatisfaction. He had no other choice.

Daryl made a little gesture with his head at the sleeping girl, “And the girl?”

“Found her at the prison,” Rick answered and paused before he corrected. “Or they found us more likely. We were about to be shot. Two people with guns. We were out of bullets,” he continued, his breath hitching as Amanda snapped her head up. “L—Lizzie shot them.”

Daryl gave him a look, too. “Where’s the girl?”

Rick shook his head, and slowly said as Amanda’s eyes bore through him. “She’s gone.”

Daryl gave them another look while Amanda’s lips flattened, her expression turning sterner, her eyes glinted darkly. Neither said anything, and ever the quick one, realizing it wasn’t a subject he should press, Daryl let it go.

“We should go out—” Amanda announced, moving her eyes from him, her voice stark and rigid. “We need to look for others, search for their trails. We thought about it—” she paused, her voice straining on the word “we”, “but Rick wanted to come to find Carl and Judith first.”

Daryl nodded at the same time as Beth remarked. “Amanda’s right—” the teenager said. “We need to look for others. I want to find Maggie.”

Daryl shook his head. “It’s almost evening,” the tracker stated. “Sun's gon’ set down soon.”

“Yes, but we have to go check things out,” Amanda insisted. Rick stayed silent. “Others won’t survive long if we don’t find them, not another night. If they already survived the last one—” she added sotto voce.

The disturbance was rising in him again, the fact she was most probably going to want to go with Daryl. Rick had made her come with him, but how he was going to keep her inside now was another matter. He really didn’t want to start another fight with her, but thought of it was making his insides crawl, then Rick noticed it. Daryl’s expression.

“Nah…” the tracker said, shaking his head again. “You cain’t stay outside when it’s dark.”

Amanda stared at him coldly. “I’m going—” she announced again, her voice as cold and clear as her eyes. “If you want to stay and be safe, _fine_.”

“Amanda—” Rick finally cut in, as Beth stood up from the couch’s other side. “Amanda’s right. We need to look for others. I’m going, too.”

Carl stood at the same time. “I am, too! I won’t sit on my ass doing nothing—” he almost seethed out the last part, sending a glare at Rick.

Rick held his boy’s eyes. “Watch your mouth—” he snapped back. “And _no_!”

“I want to go!” Carl seethed in a whisper. Rick knew he wanted to yell instead but kept his voice low for his sister and Mika. “I won’t sit down and watch while bad things happen to us like we always do! Like you _always_ do.”

“Carl—” Rick said, trying to hold on his temper and not snap at his son again, but Amanda cut him off.

“Your dad’s right,” she remarked placidly, turning to Carl. “It’s too dangerous.” She pivoted towards Beth. “And you, too. I’ll go alone.”

Both Carl and Beth shook their heads in protest as Rick walked to her, the fire rising in him again. “No!” He shook his head, his voice grating at his throat.

Did she—did she _really_ think he'd let her leave after everything that happened? His eyes found hers. “You can’t go out alone in the dark. Don’t—”

She cut him off, catching his eyes, too. “Still _not_ asking for your permission, Rick—” she hissed. “And I _am_ —”

Rick opened his mouth but before he could say anything in return, Daryl cut everyone off. “All of you— _zip yer_ _lip_ _s_ —” the tracker roughed out in a deep rasp, jumping from his perch on the coffin. “If anyone goes out ‘s me, and I ain’t takin' no one with me.”

Rick nodded, turning to the hunter. “Yeah. Will you?” he questioned. “Amanda's got a point. Maggie and Glenn would make it out there, but others most probably wouldn’t.”

Daryl gave back a half nod. “A’right—” he accepted, “I'll go.” Both Beth and Carl perked up, but Daryl shook his head at them. “Nah—‘m faster alone and might need to stay out. Y’all stay.”

Rick bobbed his head, but wondered if Daryl was doing it on his behalf. Being out in the woods at the night was trouble, and being alone… No, it wasn’t the best option. Common sense dictated that Amanda would go with him, and Daryl would know it, as well.

Daryl was never stupid, and almost nothing escaped from him. Rick recalled the way his friend questioned him the day Rick made Amanda stay, instead of running after another sonofabitch. It’s different, Rick had told the other man, and it’d been because it was her.

 _She_ was different, and Rick was beginning to catch up to what that truly meant… Behind his eyes, he saw the gun rising again, and the way he’d pulled her behind him—

Rick felt torn. The notion was disturbing him greatly, sitting on his ass as Carl mildly put it while Daryl risked his own life to look for people Rick should’ve protected in the first place. But he still didn’t want Amanda to be out without him right now, and they couldn’t leave at night all together, not when there was Judith.

Rick gave a look at Daryl. “Can you—can you do it?”

The man nodded, but Amanda shook her head. “No,” she opposed, taking a step closer toward them. “It’s too dangerous alone,” she repeated. “You need someone to guard your back.”

Daryl shrugged it off as Rick shut off his eyes for a second, wanting to scream at her to have _mercy_ on him! “I need you here,” the words suddenly left him, almost before Rick knew he uttered them.

“Here’s dangerous, too—” he gestured around the room with his head as eyes turned to him, clearing his throat. “I’m injured. I can’t protect Judith and Mika on my own if walkers find us.”

Carl and Beth could fight, but this was different. “I need help—" Rick went on, and it was the truth, too. He needed her beside him, needed to know she was safe, but he also needed her help. And like everything else between them, it was so bizarre—so complicated. “And there are your former friends,” he added, and repeated, his voice clearer as he realized how true the words were. “I need you here, Amanda.”

He needed her. They were a good team, from the start. Even not knowing each other, even not talking to each other, they worked together flawlessly. They’d killed those walkers swiftly—almost effortlessly when they met. He remembered their times in the prison, making the morning patrols, bouncing ideas between them, completing each other's thoughts with ease. They worked together well when they were open and honest with each other.

For a moment, Rick wondered how they would’ve dealt with Lizzie if she came to him first, _talked_ to him, instead of running off to a supply run the first thing in the morning without a _word_ to him. They were supposed to be partners, dammit!

Rick knew he’d—uh overreacted. He could see it clearly now. Knowing that she was alone with the girl as he imagined all the scenarios—each more horrible than the other…worry and panic gnawing at his insides.

She was right. They—they should’ve handled this better. They should’ve dealt with the girl more…tactfully. He—he just—he sighed under his breath. He didn’t know.

She should’ve just waited for him to wake up!

Then Rick remembered…

 _Why, you were out_ _cold_ _, Rick, moaning your wife’s name in your sleep!_ the snappish words echoed through his mind…His eyes cut over to Amanda—

She was looking at him after his declaration. There was that thing in her eyes again as if she couldn’t decide to slap him or kiss him, the green of her eyes sharpened into almost emerald, glinting with an edge, and Rick wondered—if…if she left this morning with the girl because Rick spoke Lori’s name in his sleep.

Surely, it sounded like Amanda. Running away as soon as something that she didn’t like happened, hiding herself in bathrooms or laundry rooms, or doing her laps all the while pretending he didn’t exist instead of coming to talk. Rick almost scoffed—pot calling kettle, indeed.

And he really—really moaned Lori’s name in his sleep?

And—and Amanda heard it—God!

 _I don’t want any complications in my life, either…_ he recalled his own words and wanted to heave a deep sigh.

Her eyes still on him, she finally nodded, and Rick let out a breath of relief. “Okay.”

Their eyes caught on each other as Rick gave her a half nod in return, but before he could say anything, Carl kicked off the stool he was sitting on. Rick’s head snapped at his son as Carl stomped off down the hall.

# # #

“Do you know him?” Beth asked as they stood over the metal slab in the basement.

Looking down at the white-plastered face frozen in time, Amanda shook her head in answer. “No—he was already there when we came to the place the first time,” she said slowly. “We found him here. I guess they finished him for his ceremony, but couldn’t manage to hold the memorial.”

Lifting her head up, Beth eyed her. Amanda sensed it under her bowed head. “Why didn’t you bury him?” the teenager questioned.

Her eyes still on the embalmed corpse, Amanda shook her head again. “I—I don’t know. We—we just couldn’t, I guess.”

“We need to do it—” Beth rattled off. “I want to bury him. Make his memorial.”

Amanda raised her head. “We—we don’t even know him, Beth.”

“It doesn’t matter. Someone went to all this trouble. We should honor it.” The teenager paused. “Daryl was going to dig a grave. We were talking about it before you came back.” Another pause. “I’m gonna ask Rick to do it.”

Amanda scoffed, looking down at the dead man. “Yeah. Go ask Rick. He’d like that…” she murmured, her voice bitter and curt. “making graves.”

Beth gave her another look, her voice was as cool as hers as she stated, “You’re mad at him.”

Her head snapping toward the teenager, the fury swept over her again, the same resentment and anger. She…she couldn’t help herself with it, either. She was glad to be here, glad to be with them, with Beth, with kids, _even_ with Rick, but she was still _furious_ , angry at him. She couldn’t help it.

“Do you understand none of this would’ve happened if he accepted to leave the prison like that sonofabitch told him?” she gritted through her teeth. “We had a chance. That bastard told him to leave. He said he was going to let us go. Rick didn’t take it.” She paused for a second before spatting the words. “He wanted to fight.”

Beth gave out a small, rueful smile at that. “I guess Carl’s angry with him for nothing then,” she muttered back. “When we arrived here, he was as furious as you are for not fighting. For—um—how did he said it—” Beth paused. “For growing his stupid crops and feeding stupid pigs.”

“That’s different—” Amanda countered, shaking her head again, though her words came out hesitantly. Carl was angry with his father. Amanda had understood, of course, had sensed it when she’d come between them afraid of a shouting match. She had to. Rick couldn’t have dealt with it at the moment. She stopped herself. _They_ couldn’t have dealt with it at the moment.

Amanda swallowed. “That’s different,” she repeated, bowing her head. “If we just left, none of this would’ve happened,” she insisted and paused a bit. “Your dad would’ve been here—”

Lizzie would’ve been here, as well. And Amanda would’ve worried how to keep the girl intact instead of… She shook her head. “We—we should’ve just left. But instead he just stood there, made his stupid speech, told them how we all could live together.”

Beth was silent at first, as if in careful consideration, then slowly said, “I understand you, but I think Rick just tried to do what's best for us.”

Her head snapped up again. “ _How_ can you even say that!” she cried out. “Your dad—your dad—”

Beth cut her off. “Would’ve understood, too,” she firmly stated. “You—you don’t know how it was, Amanda. We couldn't leave the prison without a fight.” Beth shook her head, her doelike eyes getting heavy and moist. “None of us could.”

The teenager exhaled a deep, loaded sigh. “After our farm got overrun,” she started talking then with the same small voice they used nowadays. “Rick promised us a home, a place where we could be safe again. And he did, he found it, but it took a while.” Beth paused, and Amanda remembered what he’d said about those months on the road…

 _My son almost ate dog food! I stopped him at the last minute_ _,_ _and he got angry at me for stopping him!_ Amanda realized it’d been hard for them, but… “When we first came to the prison,” Beth continued. “I couldn’t even unpack for a month. I—I was so afraid, so afraid of losing it. I couldn’t bring myself to think of it as…home.”

Her tears threatened to spill over, and Amanda lowered her head again, remembering the times back in her childhood, how it felt losing a good house on those rare occasions that she landed in one. Dealing with worse was relatively easier, but knowing the good, knowing the safety, the comforts…then losing them. It was so much crueler. It hurt so much, cut so much deeper.

“I was so afraid of getting my hopes up and then being hurt that way again,” Beth continued, and her tears broke free. Amanda couldn’t even try to stop them anymore… “And…and it was just easier to be afraid, I guess.”

“B-Beth—” she sobbed, sucking in a breath.

Beth moved closer and hugged her. Amanda hugged the teenager back fiercely and started crying even worse—like a…dam broke inside her. The flood this time swept over her even worse, a myriad of emotions she couldn’t even know how to name drowning her. She felt helpless…helplessly whirling inside a vortex, trying to stay above the surface.

Beth’s arms tightened around her further, and Amanda just cried more.

It was— _this_ was wrong. It had to be her who should comfort Beth. She had lost her father and her home, and her sister was still out there. Amanda should comfort her, give her strength, not the other way around. But Amanda just stayed in her arms and cried, and Beth cried with her. So perhaps they were comforting each other now. How—how could _she_ ever know? She’d never had a friend before.

“Beth—” she sobbed again— “I—I—” Her words stopped. She didn’t know what to say to continue, and “I’m sorry” seemed meaningless, felt empty over her tongue.

# # #

When the sun set, they buried the man they didn’t even know instead of their own dead. Amanda guessed it was the way of things now with their lives.

“I don’t even know your name,” Amanda muttered beside the grave when she was alone, holding a daisy tiara in her hands because she still should give her respects in some way, had to say her goodbye…

“But I hope—I hope you’re in a better place now.” She paused, swallowing low in her throat. “If you are, please—please tell her—tell her I’m—” She paused and swallowed again. “Tell her I—I—tried. It’s—it’s the least we all can do. I hope she understands.” She breathed for a second and said, “I’m sorry.”

And it didn’t feel meaningless this time; it felt—true, sincere… She bent down and placed the tiara on the freshly dug earth.

When she walked back to the building, Rick was on the porch, his wide spread arms holding the railings in front of him. His eyes followed her as she climbed up the steps, then he looked her directly in the eye.

Somewhere inside he’d found a dark suede jacket. The nights were getting chilly. Soon autumn would finish, and they would have winter. She wondered how things were going to be for them now, on an exodus, trying to find each other, trying to find…a home.

Amanda had never truly known what a home meant, as she’d never had one, but she knew the importance of having a roof over your head. She’d seen how life ended up for people without a place. Homeless, desolate in the streets, lost. She thought how it’d be surviving a winter on the road…or trying to eat dog food. Amanda knew desperation, knew of hunger; she’d gone to the bed with an empty stomach on many occasions, but that—that was something else.

She felt—she felt so sad for the boy. Her eyes went to Rick. The familiar sadness was returning to her again, she felt it despite being—angry? Good Lord, she had no idea what she was feeling anymore.

She knew she should go inside, find Beth again, or check Judith or Mika, or even Carl. Staying alone with him was asking for trouble. They—they always found a way to fight, always at each other’s throat. Somehow, she did the exact opposite.

She stopped and looked back at him, then walked over to him at the railings. She held the railings like he did and started watching the darkened lawn in front of them lined with trees.

She didn’t speak, though, and neither did he. He just shot her another glance then turned his attention back ahead. She truly didn’t even know what she was doing, standing just beside him in the dark. Everything—everything felt so…complicated.

And here she was trying to keep things simple.

“We—” He finally broke the silence with a throaty rasp a couple of minutes later when it became so tense, it was like a solid, transparent wall between them. He cleared his throat before he spoke again. “We should leave tomorrow morning as soon as Daryl comes back,” he stated, words following after that easily. “We stayed here too long. I don’t like it.”

In silence, Amanda nodded. If she had to be completely honest, she didn’t like staying here either, not only because her former colleagues might arrive at any moment.

It was too serene now at the funeral home, almost…tranquil. It was so much easier to be mad at him or pretend he didn’t exist on the road. Perhaps she really should've insisted on leaving with Daryl, to be out there in danger. When you were in danger, when you were out in the woods, so to speak, everything was just simpler.

Not easier, perhaps, surrounded by all kinds of dangers, but just simpler. You did what you had to when you were on the run. There were no conflicts in you, no debates. You just did what you had to do. Then again, Rick had done exactly _that_ , did what he had to, and everything turned into a mess.

 _I couldn’t take the risk,_ he’d said, and a part of Amanda had understood. Like Beth, she’d understood. She just couldn’t…accept. They—they should’ve handled it better. There must’ve been another way.

His eyes moved to her once more, and they lapsed into another silence.

God, she really should’ve left with Daryl… But he’d said those words, told her he needed her, with that look and tone—her eyes on him, and somehow Amanda found herself nodding again. He needed her help. They were still supposed to be partners…weren’t they?

Well, she had no idea what they were supposed to be anymore, but she didn’t want to ask that question, either, didn’t want to open that can of worms. Nope.

So she started to make a move to go inside, like she already should have. Carl came out right at that moment, his gun out, and gave his father a terse look. “I’m gonna make a perimeter check,” the boy announced, but Rick, understandably, shook his head.

“No need—” he told his son, and Amanda knew he was struggling to keep his voice calm. “I already did it. Go rest. We'll do it together the next time.”

Standing where he stood at the threshold, Carl gave him a seething look. Rick returned it with a firm one. “Son,” his voice turned even smoother, but his jaw was set, his lips clenched. “Go in and stay with Judith.” He paused for a second and added, “ _Please_.”

“ _Fine_ —” the teenager bit off in a hiss.

Rick stared at his back, twisting aside. After he vanished into the building, Rick sighed, turning back to face the yard again. He tucked his chin toward his chest, his hands tightening on the railings, and he really looked tired—old and tired.

“Do you—” Amanda asked hesitantly. “Uh—do you want me to talk to him?”

He let out a small scoff, his head still bowed. “Why—wanna start a fan club? People who are mad at Rick Grimes for screwing up?”

Amanda glared at him, her ire returning. But she wasn’t sure if he was bitter at them or at himself. “We _might_ —” she shot back.

“Yeah—” he muttered and lifted his head, shaking it. “I’m trying to play the hand I’ve been dealt, too, Amanda,” he told her, his eyes trained ahead in the dark. “But whatever I do, it doesn’t matter. The house always wins in the end.”

Amanda knew what he meant. She nodded. “I know.”

Swiftly, Rick turned to her, and his eyes held hers. What Amanda saw wasn’t a tempest this time, but was…a vast, boundless ocean, raw with emotions, and it took her breath away. “I’m sorry, Amanda,” he told her again. “I’m truly sorry about what happened with Lizzie.”

And he sounded…sincere, his apology didn’t feel empty or meaningless, but he confessed further. “But I don’t regret my decision,” he remarked truthfully, turning ahead to stare at the dark. “I can’t.” He shook his head. “Not after what happened at the prison.”

“I know…” Amanda muttered. She knew it, but still couldn’t…accept it. “I reached her. I talked to her—” Rick sighed beside her. “I _did_ ,” she insisted again. “Lizzie was the hand we were dealt. She saved our lives. We—we should’ve handled it better,” she repeated.

“Yes,” Rick accepted, too. It…made her feel a bit better as well, his acceptance. She knew he couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk his children—thinking of Judith being close to someone like Lizzie was giving chills even to her, but still, they should’ve dealt with the girl better than this.

Rick turned to her again and stared at her intently. “And do you even ask yourself how it ended like this, Amanda?” he asked her. “Why I—uh—overreacted like that?”

She stared back at him, her eyebrows knitting. “What do you mean?”

He took a step closer to her beside the railings. “You said we should’ve handled it better,” he repeated lowly, “and I agree. And we _could’ve_ handled it better, too—" His eyes bore though hers as Amanda held his, “If only you talked to me _first_ before you decided to act on your own.”

She blinked a few times, still staring at him—almost in shock— “Are you fucking—” she almost shouted, but he touched her elbow lightly to stop her.

“No more yelling, Amanda—” he warned. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I’m just _stating_ what you did.”

She looked at him back coldly. “You’re trying to put the blame on _me_ —” she hissed, her voice rising despite herself, because she couldn’t fucking believe what she heard.

Without answering her, he nudged her toward inside the house. “Let’s go in.” He gave a wandering look inside. “This is not a good place to have this talk.”

She pulled her arm out of his grip. “I don’t want to talk to you—” she spat. “Leave me alone.”

He took another step, his eyes still on hers. “Look, I _like_ doing this as much as you do, but we need to talk.” He paused. “Every time we ignore it, something happens.”

“Ignore what?”

“ _Amanda_ —”

She shook her head. “I’m not having this discussion...” She was not, even though she had no idea exactly what they were discussing. That was a can of worms better left alone—safely kept closed. Why he couldn’t fucking see it, she had no idea.

She swiveled on her heels and stalked back in the house. She—she just wanted to be alone. Away from him—from his _things_. She crossed the hall and started going toward the basement. In the hall, there were Beth and Carl and the kids. She couldn’t see them right now, either. She just had to be alone, find her solace again—her balance…

She opened the door for the basement, where the stale air scented with formaldehyde was pungent inside. At least the metal slab in the middle of the room was empty now, no more dead man resting in his final sleep. Amanda stopped, holding the metal edge. She just wanted to be alone, but Rick followed… “Amanda, I’m not trying to start anything here. You’re accusing me to be the cause of what happened, and perhaps I did, but I want you to understand me, too.”

“I understand you!” she sneered, twisting aside at him, “Don’t worry about it!”

He padded to her. “Do you—I mean really? You _completely_ disregarded me, Amanda. You say we’re partners, but you didn’t talk to me, you didn’t even seek counsel with me. You just went and took her out.” He took another step toward her and leaned at the metal slab, his eyes catching hers again. “Do you have _any_ idea how I felt when I woke up and realized you went outside with the girl after what happened yesterday? How much I was…worried—”

“For god’s sake” she exclaimed, cutting him off. “I am a _fucking_ cop! I can take care of myself!”

Rick shook his head. “No. I’m not talking about that,” he said, then paused, his eyes finding hers again. “It’s different.”

“How?” she asked. “How is it different?”

He let out a sigh. “Amanda, today I walked in front of a gun for _you_. I reacted, didn’t even think on it, but we both know it wasn’t a reflex. I don’t do reflexes anymore. I don’t take the risks. You know it damn well.” He paused for a split second. “I did it because I had to.”

She heard the words but the meanings…They—they were lost on her as she only managed to stare back at him.

“I can’t lose you, Amanda. I don’t want to,” he simply stated, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

She shook her head, bowing it. “This is wrong—” she muttered with a voice so low she wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or herself. “We—you—you were moaning your wife’s name in your sleep just last night!”

She swallowed, feeling the heat rising out of her, this time all for different reasons, and she swallowed, her throat so tight, and she was so fucking tired…

“I know. _You_ told me about it this morning,” Rick said. Amanda felt his eyes bore through her again. “Amanda, I’m trying to be open and honest with you here. If I ask you a question, would—would you do the same for me as well?”

She knew she should’ve said no, she just knew it. But he was really being open and honest so she—again—found herself nodding, damn well feeling like she was walking into a trap of her own free will… “Did you leave the house this morning like that because you were mad at me and wanted to be away from me?”

She darted her eyes aside, playing with the metal with her fingertips. “You—you’re not an easy man to get on with, Rick—” she answered…tactfully.

Rick frowned. “I don’t want elusive answers, Amanda,” he warned, his voice strained as he tried to keep it placid. “Just be honest, or don’t answer at all.”

“Fine—” she bit off. “Yes. I was a bit stressed and wanted to…” She paused, not wanting to say she’d wanted to be away from his drama, needed something to focus her mind over the fact that how it fucking _felt_ hearing him moaning for his dead damn love of his life…

“Lizzie…” she murmured, “We had to deal with Lizzie. So I thought—” She paused again, closing her eyes, aware of how careless her words were coming out… ruthless. She'd wanted to help Lizzie. She had—She should’ve asked Rick, but she—

Amanda shook her head, so furious at herself, because she knew where this was going— what he _truly_ wanted to ask.

Rick didn’t surprise her, either. “And you were stressed because—” he asked, his voice still sounding placid and simple. “Because of what happened last night?”

Honesty, well, they were being honest here. She raised her eyes at him. “I didn’t…like it,” she then said.

His lit eyes fixated on hers, and he let out a sharp breath at her admission, the fact that she didn’t _like_ hearing him moaning about his dead wife. His keen look turned his eyes a shade darker blue, too, glinting, then he gave her a small nod in acceptance.

“Okay. I understand. We—” He cleared his throat, his voice now not placid, but rough around the edges. “We—we—uh need to talk about _this_ —thoroughly, I think—” he roughed out. “But I—I can’t do it now. Not right now. Not before I put it back together. We’ll then—”

She shook her head, cutting him off, “Rick, stop. I just—didn’t like it. There’s nothing to talk about. It’s just a…feeling. No big deal.”

After her words, he glared at her. “You started a mess, Amanda, because you got jealous of my dead wife,” he rasped slowly, “and I walked in front of a loaded gun for you, but you’re telling me it’s _no_ big deal?”

Her face stiffened. She'd already started hating this talk. “I’m telling you what it is—just a feeling. Feelings pass. They happen. We—we’ve been through a lot together—and there is this—tension between us. It—might’ve started playing on us—” She paused, frowning, a sudden thought crossing her mind. “It’s perhaps just sexual tension.”

His jaw clenched, he took a step in on her. “Are you telling me I risked myself for you because I’m…what… _horny_?”

She leaned back over the edge of the metal slab at his advance, his eyes now holding a tempest, getting angry. “No. I’m—I’m—” she stumbled on the words, feeling truly at lost—then she decided on honesty again. “I—I truly have no idea what I’m saying right now,” she confessed.

“Then allow me to clarify it for you,” he said before he grabbed her by the upper arms and pulled her closer. A split second later, he leaned down and pressed his lips on hers.

He was determined; it was the first thing that came to her mind as his tongue demanded an entrance into her mouth, persistent, relentless in his assault, his arms tightening over her as he pressed her against his chest.

For a second or so, Amanda thought of stepping back. This—this was wrong. They couldn’t do this…whatever the hell it was…He was in love with another, a dead woman, and with his loving memories from a different life.

But Rick was really persistent and demanding, and Amanda felt like they were fighting again, and he was leading, and—it was _really_ so easy to follow him, so her mouth opened, inviting him almost on its own account. He caught the back of her neck in answer, brought her even closer to himself. He angled his head, and started kissing her—truly.

Then Amanda learned how a girl could die of a kiss.

It was nothing like their first kiss. Nothing gentle, nothing tame, nor tender. He was in charge, proving his point, and he was doing it damn well. She felt like she was drowning again— _feelings_ …a myriad of them twirling through her insides…and she wanted to tell herself it was no big deal, but Amanda was never one to delude herself.

Amanda Shepherd never ran away from facts, never denied them, and right now she was living through one; the fact that it _wasn’t_ just a feeling—and a part of her felt scared like she’d never been before.

Though, she still kept kissing him back.

She tightened her arms around his neck and started wondering where this was going, a terrible tug throbbing deep in her insides, something missing in her, clawing at her with need. She felt it—the need—deep in her inside, the need to feel him…inside her.

She almost made a move, the feeling beating _inside_ her like a heartbeat, but as abruptly as he’d started, Rick stopped. He pulled back from her an inch and gazed at her.

Too dazed to talk, Amanda looked back at him back as he stared at her intently. “I hope this has clarified my intentions clearly, Amanda,” he remarked, and even though his tone was still rough, he managed to sound calm.

Her eyes struck at his, she gave a little nod—not knowing what else to do. “Uh—okay.”

“We’ll figure this out—” he told her with certainty. “When I put everything right again. Find others, find us a new home then we’ll _talk_. Until then—” He paused for a second, leaning over her again. “Promise me you won’t die on me, okay?”

She let out a small sound. “Okay—” she whispered. “I promise.” Her eyes rose toward his, too. “You?”

He nodded. “I promise.”

A shiver passed over her. Something in her tugged at her again, not a throbbing pulse deep inside her, but something in her…chest. She was tired. She—she wanted—to be…closer. She remembered how Beth had put her head on her shoulder that day on the benches. Tentatively, almost scared, Amanda took a step and rested her head on his shoulder. Rick's arms coiled around her waist in response to take her lightly in his embrace.

His body was warm, and the closeness felt good, felt…like she wasn’t alone. She felt it deeply again; she was glad to be here, glad to be with him despite everything, and that was what she'd _accepted_. “I—I’m still mad at you, Rick—” she spoke lowly in throat, craning her head up from his shoulder an inch. “But—I—I understand. I don’t…accept it, but I understand.”

“A part of me…a part of me feels even…relief,” Rick mumbled, his eyes cast down to find hers. “I know it’s sick and cruel, I know I’m cruel, but I can’t help it, Amanda. I just can’t.” He paused again, sadness in his eyes, and the same weariness she knew like her own. “This world...this world isn't a place for a girl like her anymore.”

“I know.” Amanda repeated. "I told her about the first time I killed someone,” she told him, too. “I wanted her to understand, to know the difference…bad people, bad things. It's...okay to feel relief, I guess.” She craned her neck a bit higher to look at him clearer.

“He was a drug dealer, a very rich one,” she continued, “Just kept bailing out, bribing the right people. His last kill was a narcotics informant. The guy was trying to come clean, had a kid on the way. He got him killed. When the sonofabitch died, I felt relieved—not proud of myself, but I was relieved, even glad that he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.”

His hand touched the side of her cheek. He was looking at her with that look again, and she turned her eyes away, tilting her head down his shoulder. “Your code—” Rick asked, his eyes moving to catch hers again. “You said—you gave her a code. What was it? What did you tell her?”

Amanda pulled back from his shoulder then and let out a small sigh. “Well, it had to be something simple,” she said in a small voice, feeling a shyness coming over her as Rick cupped her cheek again, looking at her with a kind, gentle look and a bit of a faint smile. It warmed her insides as well as his arms warmed her body. “We kill the dead and don’t hurt the living unless they try to hurt us or others.”

His fingers found the side of her neck as his thumb gently stroked her cheek. His hand was calloused like hers, tough with the years of handling guns, but his touch was still so gentle, so kind; Rick still knew kindness more than he knew violence.

Their eyes on each other, he leaned over her to find her lips, and Amanda thought she really…really could get used to this, getting kissed by him. She still had no idea what was happening, aside from _something_ was definitely happening, but she trusted Rick.

They were going to figure this out, like he'd said. Then…then…well, she had no idea what would happen then, but for the first time in her life, the unknown, the uncertainty didn’t alarm her like it always did. Amanda hated undefined, unlabeled things in her life, but sometimes exceptions had to be made. For Rick, she could do it.

He was struggling with this as much as she did, but they were going to figure it out. She knew they would.

So Amanda just rested close against him and let him kiss her again—this time gentler, tender, just like their first time. His lips brushed over hers, taking their sweet time, his tongue playing with hers as the smooth wave of serenity spread over her even further. Amanda had never been into kissing much, almost found it…boring, but as she kissed Rick, she wondered…why? This—she…she could do for a long time.

Though, after a while, he pulled back an inch, and his hand passed through her loose locks at her shoulders, brushing his fingertips across her skin. Something close to a purr poured out of her in response to the gesture, her feet moving on their own account to be closer once more. She wondered how it would be like sleeping in his arms, laying on his chest as he held her tightly, just like he’d done protecting her against a bullet…

The image was so powerful, so vivid, it felt like the moment he moaned his children’s names in his sleep—

Just before he moaned his dead wife’s name.

As if someone threw a bucket of cold water on her, Amanda almost flinched, and the reality kicked back in, ending her wishful thinking.

Whatever feelings Rick _might_ have for her, he was still in love with another woman. And—Amanda—she was being stupid…just being stupid.

Stiffening, she pulled away. Rick gave her a look, realizing something happened…and it did. The reality happened.

She almost opened her mouth and told him it was madness. The stress and strain of the last days had made them snap, surely, because she couldn’t see any other explanation why she was daydreaming about sleeping—just _sleeping_ with a man who was in love with another.

But she couldn’t do it—because she heard the scream just before she opened her mouth and told him.

“Arghh!” Beth yelled over from the upstairs. “Walkers!”

They exchanged a look first then they both rushed at the door.

So, so stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are--Amanda and Rick, finally getting into a non-relationship relationship :)  
> I thought this would be the best way to deal with it, as, neither Rick or Amanda could have started a relationship, but finally admitting something is going on--Amanda at the end chickening out again...  
> I've been playing with a lot of themes for this chapter as well, hope it played off well at the end.
> 
> I debated with myself long how they could greet each other, and that group hug almost happened on its own account. I felt like it was just the thing to move them closer to each other again.
> 
> So, Daryl is out for looking others, as Maggie looks for Beth. As Glenn wasn't sick at the story at the prison's fall, there was no need from them to get separated, and I wanted Maggie to be a good sister for once. LOL. Keeping Amanda back at the funeral home was hard, too, as she would've wanted to go out to look for others, so Rick had to be sly again:D And walkers busted the place, too! So yeah, no rest for these guys, he he.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter, it just couldn't finish... So many things to cover...  
> Enjoy :D (And seriously, your comments motivate me greatly, please keep them coming :D)

**XXVIII.**

It never ended. They could never catch a breath.

Rick ran to the staircase out of the basement, limping on his good leg as fast as he could, the gun he had taken from Lizzie already in his hand as he was still out of bullets for his Colt Python. Way ahead of him, Amanda was already climbing the steps.

“Beth—” she cried out, taking the last step to the corridor upstairs. She looked around wildly, spinning around as Rick stepped beside her. “Beth!” she cried out again.

There were no walkers inside, but Rick could hear the tale-tell snarls and growls outside the entrance. From the way the wooden door was shaking on its frame, it was clear that it wasn’t going to take long before it broke. There were two chairs propped against it to hold it, Beth or Carl must’ve done it before they ran away.

He scurried closer and peeked outside through the panel glass, pulling back the white shade. If the ringing clamor of snarl and growls from outside didn’t already make it certain, his quick look would have: walkers. More than two dozen, up to thirty perhaps. They were all herded to the porch, banging on the door, instinctively knowing the fresh food was inside.

How? The question popped into his mind even though he knew it was useless to ask. The dead always were out there, waiting to slip through the door and claim them.

But he’d also made a full perimeter check, had walked over the lawn, and checked the tree lines. He hadn’t even seen a lone walker. Where had they come from? He shook his head. It didn’t matter. Not now.

He turned to Amanda. “Find the kids,” His voice was rough now for different reasons. “They must be at the back door. I’ll pull the couch to barricade the door.”

She nodded, quickly sprinting towards the back, calling out with agitated whispers. “Beth—Carl—”

It wasn’t a big building, but it was big enough, and soon as he was moving the couch out of the memorial hall, he lost her agitated, panicked voice, too. The only sounds now were snarls and growls from the outside. Rick wanted to hit something, wanted to open the door and kill those bastards, rip them apart… Just one night, all he had been asking was _just_ one night, just a quiet night in which he—he could try to make things a bit better.

He'd talked with Amanda. The talk was almost bizarre, the way they fought first, then kissed, then made out a bit, slowly, smoothly as she nested herself in his embrace shyly. It felt so good, too, so good to have her warm, lithe body in his arms again. Rick started to realize that it was the case with everything concerning Amanda Shepherd; everything, everything about her was good, bizarre, and complicated.

But they’d found a common ground. He knew they had, at least until she’d pulled away from him at the last moment just before Beth called out.

God! All he’d been asking was a quiet night. Perhaps a few more kisses, the knowledge that she was safe and beside him, the knowledge that his family was safe and beside him. He hadn’t been asking anything more than that, but even those little things were a luxury now.

Rick pushed the couch angrily and started rushing toward the back door just as the moment the door shook on it hinges and trembled violently. The glass panel shattered with a loud crash. Over his shoulder as Rick ran back, he saw rotten, sickly purple hands pushing through the broken glass.

He found them all at the second hall where the back door was—smaller and narrower than the entrance. Rick shook his head, hearing the snarls and growls coming from the other side, as well.

“We’re surrounded!” Carl exclaimed with the same agitation as Rick turned to Amanda, and despite the urgency of the situation, the sight in front of him halted his steps.

Mika was beside her, almost holding her leg as she looked terrified, eyes moist with tears as Judith was in Amanda’s arms, crying loudly as his poor baby girl had sensed the trouble, much like them.

And, Amanda was trying to soothe her. Granted, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen her with Judy as she and Beth played with her together, but not like _this_. He knew Amanda got on very well with kids, but the way she held Judy screamed…familiarity. Judy’s tiny arms around Amanda’s upper arms, too, and her small head over Amanda’s shoulder, Judy clutched her in return as if…as if they’d been doing it for a long time. Judith never held on _anyone_ she wasn’t familiar with in that way... Rick knew his baby girl.

The scene surprised him even further, perhaps even more than the walkers surrounding them, because slowly Judith’s sheer cries quieted. Soon calmed down, Judy stopped crying as Amanda brought her closer in her bosom, whispering to her ear as her hand made light gentle strokes across Judy’s back.

Rick stared as she looked everywhere but at him, hiding her face behind Judy’s neck. “This—how did this happened?” she questioned, twisting aside from him, looking Beth and Carl.

Beth shook her head. “We—we don’t know,” the teenager answered as Rick walked to the window and checked outside again.

At first count, he picked up a dozen or so walkers out in the backyard, too, trying to reach the little four-step staircase that gave access to the back door. “There was this dog Daryl fed last night. We found it in the yard when we first came. Daryl fed him pig’s feet last night. We heard the cans we put up clutter. Carl went to check out. It was the same dog. We wanted to give him food again, but suddenly walkers came up. We closed the door at the last minute. Carl placed two chairs, and we ran back here.”

Rick nodded, but Amanda shook her head, clutching Judith tighter. “It’s Gorman!” she seethed out. “I know that dog. He feeds that dog.” She paused, giving Judith back to Beth. “It’s him! He’s here—” There was that look in her eyes again, eyes glistened feral with a green fire. “This stinks of _him_!” She pulled out her gun from her holster. “I’m gon’ kill that sonofabitch this time! Rip off his—”

“Amanda—” Rick cut her off, sending her a look, clear enough, and she read it as well, completing her words with a seething hiss instead.

His eyes held hers. “ _Don’t_ forget what you just promised me,” he reminded her. They wouldn’t die on each other. Rick had made her promise exactly for situations like these, when losing her shit she would run away to do…something stupid.

“We need to get outta here,” he continued after a second, his words for all of them this time, but he tossed her another glance to make sure to whom he meant it truly.

“How?” Carl asked and repeated, “We’re surrounded, dad.”

Rick shook his head. “The main entrance won’t hold long. The glass panel already broke. We need to leave.” He paused, trying to formulate a plan and pointed at the window at the back side of the room with his hand.

“Okay—” He breathed out. “I’ll try to make it out of the window and draw them away, while you go out the back door, then—” he instructed, but Carl stopped him again.

“I’m coming with you. You’re injured.”

Rick started shaking his head, but Amanda cut him off this time. “He’s right,” she whispered fiercely, walking to him. “You can’t do it alone. You need help, you said it yourself. And _I_ can’t leave Judith and Mika. Take Carl. Beth stays with me.”

Rick gave them another look, a part of him still wanting to say no. He didn’t want to risk Carl’s life anymore, but he also knew they were right. He might need help out there, and his son was his best bet now.

But… “You let me protect the fence before—” Carl marched toward him. “I want to fight!”

That his boy did, and Rick felt proud again, even though he was worried. But it was also the way of things now—to stay alive, they all had to fight.

Rick nodded, albeit reluctantly as Carl took out his gun. Rick stopped him. “No--” He put his hand on the gun. “Gunshots draw the others to here from in front of the house. We need to do this quietly.”

If only they had silencers. Another wish for naught. They had nothing, running for their lives. He tried not to think how it was going to be out in the woods at night with a baby, or where Daryl was, how they were going to find each other again. All those were questions for another time. Now, they had to get out of this trap—stay alive.

He opened the window. Built on a hillside, the funeral home must’ve had an elevation difference that they’d levelled it out in construction as the back of the room was facing the hill. The altitude difference was going to make the drop to the ground—fun. Leaning out the window, he checked the height; six or so feet…With his already injured leg and other wounds, it was going to suck. 

Walking toward him, Amanda stood beside the window, and with one look down, she shook her head. “No. You can’t make the jump with your leg. It’s too high.”

Rick gave her a half nod in return, almost dismissive, and a bit snappish by her lack of confidence in him. He didn’t…like it. He always did what had to be done. Protect them at all cost. She should’ve already realized that by _now_. He wanted her to trust him to keep them safe. “It’s okay—” he grumbled out. “I got it.”

“ _Rick_ —” she told him pointedly, her eyes glinting again, and reminded him, “You promised me, _too_.”

There was a sudden silence between them as they shared a look, only disturbed by snarls and growls, but out of the corner of his eyes, Rick picked up Carl. His eyes narrowed, his son was watching them with a studious expression, and Rick found himself not knowing what to do.

He cleared out his throat, because this was the worst time, the worst time to have a… _moment_ like this. Seeing Carl’s stare, Amanda took a step back, as if she’d realized it as well. She quickly nodded. “Uh, ‘kay. I—I’ll check Beth—” she mumbled, hurriedly turning to trot back to the teenager.

Rick swallowed, peeked out of the window, and started climbing on the windowsill. Carl was still staring at Amanda’s back. “Dad—” he asked, turning to him a second later. “What was that about?”

“Nothing—” Rick muttered, perched on the windowsill, looking below. No walkers in sight. Small mercies.

“That didn’t sound like nothing,” Carl replied crisply, his eyes on him. “What did you _promise_ to each other, dad?”

God! This was the worst time, worst time to have this conversation! “Nothing—” Rick repeated with the same crispness and looked at his son. “You coming or not?”

Carl cast him one last look, his eyes still narrowed, but without another word, started climbing out of the window.

# # #

Right at the moment, Amanda wanted to slap herself!

What the hell was she doing? Why did she always turn things into a mess? She had no idea.

She walked to Beth as fast as she could manage, feeling Carl’s eyes boring through her back—and really—really? Had she lost it completely? Doing that in front of Carl, having a moment in front of a teenager who had lost his mother a few months ago… God, how she could _even_ think there could be something between her and Rick?

What would they tell a fifteen year old who had his own problems with his father, who was trying to make it in this shitty, godawful world, who had lost his mother possibly in some kind of a disaster?

Amanda wasn’t stupid. Rick’s wife's death had turned all of them into drama queens in their own ways. She didn’t know the story, but she _knew_ Rick wasn’t the only one who had lost his shit with his wife’s death.

Carl had that thing with him, too. Sometimes Amanda even got scared for the boy, likewise Rick, the way she caught him looking at the world with that cold and distant contempt, dissatisfaction, bitterness, and hate against the whole world, against everything.

Amanda knew that look all too well. She’d caught it in her own eyes too many times to count. But Carl wasn’t a lost boy, either, she knew that. Sometimes, he was still just a child, like the time she’d hung him by his ankles, a teenager like they all had been, trying to grow up.

But Carl wasn’t like them. They’d never suffered through their adolescence the way he was. Even her own adolescence must be a picnic next to his, and in her book, that was saying quite a lot.

Seriously—what the hell had she been thinking? That she would fuck his father merrily in front of a mourning child, stomping all over the memory of his mother like it was nothing!

And—Rick—he was going to do what? Having _something_ with her like eight or so months after his wife’s certainly tragic death? That was it? And what was she? The pretty band aid for his mourning process? The clean bandage over his wound to nurse him back to health?

God! She knew what happened to bandages! They always got disposed of, to be thrown away after they did their jobs and fulfilled their purposes. Was that truly her? His band aid until he moved on? But—but you didn’t walk in front of a loaded gun for…a bandage. You didn’t risk it that way. Rick _didn’t_ risk it that way.

How—how had she managed to get herself into this mess? How?

What happened to her?

What the hell had happened?

She should’ve just left! Just looked for Gorman. That was what she should’ve done—not this—whatever this was.

She stopped in front of Beth and looked at Mika who was standing close to Beth. She knelt in front of the kid. “Mika, you’ll do exactly what we say, ‘kay?” she told the child, “When we say run, you run. When we say hide, you hide. Do you remember our classes from the prison?”

Mika nodded. “Yes, Amanda.”

“Good. It’s the same. It’s only a bit more dangerous. But we’re here, and we’ll protect you,” she tried to assure her, hoping they would manage to do a much better job with it than they had protected her sister. Mika had never made a case of it, as if…as if she also _knew_.

Amanda just didn’t know what to think anymore. So many things happened so fast—Rick had been right about that.

She understood better now why he had wanted to wait. It just never ended. They just couldn’t catch a breath. She wondered if their days were always going to be like this now, always on a razor-sharp edge. She always knew they were never truly safe. She never took anything for granted, since childhood she knew anything could happen to _anyone_ , but she—she was really tired now.

The loss of the prison hit her hard again, cutting deeply, and if it were like this for her, she couldn’t even think of how it was for them—for Beth, for Carl, for Rick. For a moment or so, she wished he were here, wished she could rest her head on his shoulder like she’d done before they were interrupted as he held her in his warm embrace, gently stroking her hair…

She stopped herself.

This—this…She—she sounded like a loser even in her damn mind! Looking for affections from a guy who was still in love with another woman! How _pathetic_ was that?

But then again, he really had affections for her, _feelings_ —enough to make him walk in front of a gun for her, his reasons debatable.

 _I hope this has clarified my intentions, Amanda—_ he’d told her, but as of the moment, Amanda didn’t feel clear about anything at all.

They—they shouldn’t have done this, never had opened that can of worms. That was Pandora’s box, had to stay closed. Instead, he had, and everything had turned worse. She wished they could’ve gone back to pretend nothing was happening, but it was too late for that now.

Maybe she was right. If they started this, maybe they should just finish it—go all the way. Have sex.

Perhaps she was really right. There was this tension between them from the start, and not having sex sometimes complicated things, too. You always desired what you _didn’t_ have. Perhaps—perhaps…their affections were _really_ playing on them because they were _denying_ them… Perhaps if they had sex, it would just go away…

Could they do it? Could they take the risk? This—this _wasn’t_ only a feeling…that much he’d made her clear.

As if on cue, just as the thought crossed her mind, images assaulted her. They weren’t as innocent as before, either. They weren’t sleeping—nor was he holding Judith in his arms or smiling at her warmly, stroking her cheek. No. He was fucking her. Over the metal slab where they’d kissed a couple of minutes ago, he was fucking her senseless, raw and feral, just like the way he fought—like an animal—and that throbbing need in her insides clawed at her again—deep in her core, burning her—

She forced the imaginary scene away, letting out a shaking breath, her hands trembling.

She was losing it—definitely losing it.

She ran her trembling hand over her face… She couldn’t do this. It was just too much, damn too much. Insane. She wasn’t like this. She stayed the fuck away from drama.

For fuck’s sake, there were fucking rotters outside who wanted to rip them apart!

“Amanda—” Beth called out to her, sensing that she was off balance. Amanda snapped her attention to the girl as if she got caught. “You okay?” Beth asked.

Okay?

She was far from being okay, but that wouldn’t do, either. They didn’t have the luxury of being not okay. They had priorities. She had Judith and Mika who she had to protect, and Beth who she had to watch her back, as well. So, maybe, Rick’s…solution was really the best—postponing everything until a more…suitable time, if it _ever_ came, that was it.

“Yeah—” she answered, moving closer toward the door to check it. Rotters were still out there, of course, and it would be really _nice_ if they left the building like now. She heard the snarls getting louder and louder from the front side of the house as she stood still listening to it. She shook her head, turning to Beth.

“We don’t have much time left,” she stated and let out a breath. “Get ready.”

Then that moment, she heard the shouts. She peeked outside again and finally saw Rick and Carl waving their arms frantically towards the rotters to draw them away from their exit route, screams echoing in the air. Even from afar, Amanda could see blood stains all over them and knew they had run into trouble. She wondered what had happened, what kind of disasters still waited for them outside, where Daryl was, but they were still alive, and that was all that mattered. Priorities—it was all about priorities.

A couple of rotters started moving away toward the shouts. Amanda didn’t lose any more time after that. She heard the front door crack with a loud groan at the same time, and snarls and growls echoed in the house—

Good timing!

“Quick!” she cried out. “Beth—cover my back, Mika between us. Take Judith from Beth.” She glanced back over her shoulder as they took position. “Beth, don’t hesitate, don’t fear,” she told the teenager, trying to keep her voice calm. “Just shoot. We got this.”

She had always wanted the girl to have real experience, and this was her chance as well. At least Amanda tried to think it in such a way, like—like a field trip…to teach her to do this properly. Amanda always knew her pupils needed real life experience. The exercises behind a safety net could never be the same, and well, she got her wish.

Be careful what you wish for, indeed.

She opened the door and kicked the first rotter trying to get her, stabbing it in the head. They only needed to clear a path now as the backside of their herd was drawing away toward the clamor Rick and Carl were making.

Beth threw another one away from herself, and they took the first step. She made a move to shout at Beth to close the door that led to the room, but a look over her shoulder made it quite clear that they couldn’t return. The door was broken, more rotters were coming from the corridor, and they were getting encircled.

Ahead of them, she saw Rick and Carl fighting with another herd now, much like Beth and her, back to back, but it meant they weren’t going to come for them. This—this was madness!

When had all these rotters come!

It was Gorman! She _knew_ it! He’d done this. Somehow he learned they were here, laid a trap for them, and then brought rotters upon them. And they’d fallen into his trap like fish caught on a net.

And she’d done it— _again_. She’d made them walk into a trap, made Daryl bring them into it, knowing damn well Gorman and his pals might be around—knowing exactly how it would end.

It was all her damn fault!

Whenever she tried to do the right thing, somehow, she always managed to fuck it up tremendously. She could never do anything right. Never.

Gorman! If only she managed to find the fucking asshole and kill him before she was done herself, too. Then her life wouldn’t have gone for naught—perhaps it would even have a meaning—something she always found lacking in herself.

Yeah, she really would like killing the sonofabitch before she took her last breath—but there was no Gorman around, only rotters, so Amanda did the damn next best thing. She killed as many as rotters as she could, trying to open up a path for Beth.

Or perhaps at least if she somehow managed to get Judith and Mika under her as she got devoured perhaps she could save them—

All those funny things your brain cooked up out of desperation… “Beth—” she called out. She…she had to give them a chance, open up a path… “Beth—I’m gonna pull—”

“No—!” Beth screamed back, cutting her off. “No! We do this together!”

But they _couldn’t_ do it together. They could only _die_ together now, and it wasn’t going well with Amanda.

“Beth—” so she started with her best cop voice, but before she could utter another word, a gunshot echoed in the air—and another followed—ripping through the silence of the night…

Amanda lifted her head up, encircled with rotters, and saw Rick shooting the dead to draw them away—and one by one, they turned and started limping away toward the gunshots!

“GO!” Rick shouted. “GO NOW!”

No words leaving her, Amanda shook her head, but quickly stabbed two rotters closest to her and pulled Beth and Mika out of the rotters’ path as she saw Rick fighting with Carl to send him away.

The fucking idiot! The fucking, stupid, heroic idiot, giving his life away so they could live…

She wanted to scream at him that he’d promised—promised her he wasn’t going to die on her, either, but she couldn’t even do that now.

“AMANDA—GO! TAKE THEM—” he screamed at her again. “DON’T LOOK BACK!”

Carl started running after his last command. Amanda closed her eyes for a second and realized that her tears started leaking. “RUN!” she heard him yell. Her eyes opened as his voice vibrated in her insides. Priorities—they had them, and Rick _needed_ her to do that.

Swiftly, she swept up Judith from Mika and repeated his last order, “Run! Don’t look back—”

“Amanda—” Beth made a sound, but she cut her off, started running into the trees after Carl.

“Just run, Beth—just run.”

# # #

They ran almost a half of an hour in the dark woods before they stopped, their lungs on fire, their eyes burning, their hands, clothes, face, and hair all covered with blood, but they ran. She was crying—openly—all of them—they’d run and cried—like they should have.

Carl tripped on a tree root, folding his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them—his face hidden against his knees. His shoulders shook as he cried, his sobs muffled behind his elbows. Beth was the same beside him, her hand holding Mika’s, her shoulders shaking as she cried. Amanda stood over them, Judith in her arms.

She—she wanted to drop on her knees and cry her heart out as well. She wanted to scream and yell at the same time. She wanted to curse fate, curse any god who was listening to them—and she wanted to ask why?

Why did it have to be him?

But she couldn’t do any of thar—not now—not when he’d sacrificed himself so they could live. Amanda was not going to make his sacrifice go to waste. No! He needed her to do _this_.

They were going to live tonight. She—she would mourn tomorrow, not now, not tonight. She couldn’t do this to him.

Judith started crying at that moment, as if sending them a message. _Get yourself back together._ She bounced the baby in her arms, feeling incredibly sad—another orphan baby girl in this cruel, sick, godawful world.

But still, she had _her_. Judith wasn’t alone. None of them were alone. Amanda was _still_ here. They still had her. “We—w-we need to f-find a p-place to pass the n-night—” she stuttered the words, her voice wavering with her own unshed tears, despite her determination.

None of them made a sound, didn’t even give her a glance.

Amanda shook her head, took a breath to clear her voice. “We—we need to go. We’re not safe,” Amanda insisted, talking carefully, keeping her voice steady. They needed her. She had to pull herself back together. But again, no one made a sound, even Mika sat beside Carl, her little head bowed, Beth following suit.

Amanda marched to them, shushing the baby girl. “Get up!” she hissed at them, her voice now fierce, a fire burning in her, giving her strength. “All of you! Now!” Her fierce command finally got their attention. “He wanted us to live.” she told them, looking them directly in the eyes. “We owe him that! We owe him to stay alive.”

Carl looked at her and shook his head. “He always said we could never be safe—”

“And he was right,” Amanda replied. “We’re still together. We still got each other. Get up now.” She swallowed. “Tonight we live. Tomorrow we cry.”

Carl stood up, tears still in his eyes as he stared at her. “You talked like Dad.”

Amanda only nodded in answer, couldn’t say anything else. She knew a part of him was always going to live with her—always; the part that had whispered at her to stay safe.

She lifted her head up to look at the sky, bright stars shining above them, moon lightening their path. It seemed to her so cruel—such beauties in a world like this—starshine, moonlight. They didn’t belong to this world anymore.

 _You promised me_ , she heard in her mind, but pushed the thought away. Tomorrow. She was going to mourn, cry, even get angry at him for dying on her, but tomorrow.

A lone rotter came through the trees to her left. She passed Judith to Carl before she slowly walked to it. She stabbed it in the head, holding its out reaching arm in her hands across its chest. Simple, easy. She killed rotters, always.

Walking back, she tried to think of a plan; a way to pass the night. If only they could find a cabin in the woods or something—a roof over their heads. Or a big tree with a big hollow trunk inside to hide Judith inside, at least. She would even be okay with that for now.

They had nothing. _Nothing_.

But they still had each other, she told herself.

She checked a couple of trees and found a hollow inside one of them. She made a nest-bed with fallen leaves inside, and they placed Judith in there after she fell asleep in her arms.

Perhaps they had to stay here, too, Amanda thought next. Wandering in the woods at night was never safe, and she was never good in the woods. If they managed to live through tonight, she was going to be the best fucking tracker in the world, she promised herself. She owed Rick that, as well. She was going to do _whatever_ it took to keep her charges safe.

She turned to Carl and Beth, standing up. “We can stay here for the night, I guess—” she told them. “I—uh—I’ve got no idea where we are—and I don’t want to risk it again. We try to set up a perimeter and—”

A twig crunched behind them. They all snapped back at the same time, holding their guns trained ahead—and then they saw it.

A lone male figure, slowly limping toward them, all covered with blood, his face red and dirty, pieces of eaten flesh falling into his beard, and even with all the blood, they all recognized him.

_No… No… Please, god, no!_

Beth cried out. Amanda started crying too again as the walking dead was the man—the man she just wanted to sleep in his arms peacefully tonight... One arm rose toward Carl, he was limping toward them. Shivering, Amanda ran her hand over her face, as she felt her eyes burning. Carl—his face ashen and grey, tear stains over his cheeks, swallowed loudly. The teenager took a few steps as he raised his hand slowly, too, the gun trained at his once father's head—

Amanda walked toward the boy. He couldn’t do this. She couldn’t let him do it. “Carl, no—gunshots—” she said as her tears broke free. “And it can’t be you—” She swallowed. “It—it can’t—”

He— _it_ , Amanda corrected in her mind, limped closer toward them, his body facing Carl, as if it still— _knew_ , as if it could still recognize his son…

Amanda blinked away her tears, pulled out her knife, and started walking toward him—it—to end it…

But a rasped sound came out—a growl… a word… a name… “ _Carl—_ ”

As her hand dropped like a heavy stone, Amanda stared ahead.

# # #

Rick took another limping step as her arm dropped, and she stared at him—

Carl fell on his knees, just like Beth.

Rick took another step, pain cutting through him again. “It’s—it’s me—” he rasped out with difficulty, every breath he took hurting him further, since his wounds probably had opened again. He was covered with walkers’ blood, guts, and entrails, but he'd made sure nothing was touching his skin—he _hoped_.

He stopped beside Carl and dropped to the ground as well. He held his son’s shoulder, and brought him closer, hugging him with his arm, resting his forehead on his. He thought—he thought… he thought… “Carl—” he forced out, rasping, a tight lump in his throat.

“Dad?” Carl whispered. “I—I thought—” he roughed out. “We—saw—how?”

“Miracle?” Rick asked in return. It really came to him like a miracle now, sitting down. “Do you have water?” he asked, turning to Amanda.

She had a look on her face, disbelief and shock turning her skin so pale. He hated doing this to her, hated that she’d had to live through this. She shook her head, wordlessly.

Rick nodded and swallowed again. “I shot two of them with my last bullets and killed another one with my knife,” he started explaining, breathing laboriously. “They fell over me, protected me from others. I pulled back under them, using their entrails to cover myself before I did.” He waved a hand over himself. “I was coming after you, but their weight made my wounds worse. Couldn’t catch you. I saw your footprints, so tracked them instead.”

His eyes wandered over them, eyeing them. “Y’all okay?”

Carl and Beth nodded wordlessly, Beth holding Mika, and his eyes found Amanda. She looked so beautiful under the faint moonlight despite everything, so… _alive_. Rick remembered the moment inside the warehouse as she laughed with him. For a second, he just wanted to kiss her again—kiss her a long, long while, savoring each moment his lips would taste hers, each second his tongue would clash with hers, holding her firmly in his arms.

He—he wanted to do much more than that, too. He wanted to take her under him and have her right now right there. He wanted to taste all of her, bury himself in her depths, stare at her eyes while doing it—make her sure _they_ were doing it—but he couldn’t do any of this, as she was still looking at him like she’d seen a ghost.

The next moment, Rick caught Carl…as he’d started watching them again with that look.

Amanda nodded, her eyes still glued on him, as if she couldn’t take them away. “You?” she asked with a voice so small.

He smiled at her briefly. “Have been better—” He let out a groan. “Where’s Judith?” he asked, suddenly realizing he couldn’t see her. Frightened, he made a move to stand up and rasped, “Where is she?”

Amanda rushed at him and held him tightly by his upper arms. She sat him back on the ground. “She’s okay—” she assured him and pointed at the tree behind her. “There’s a tree hollow there. I put her inside.”

Ah.

Relief washing over him, he nodded. “’kay—” He stopped and wandered his gaze all over them again. “You—we need to cover you up, too. This—this won’t do like this.”

Amanda stared at him. “What do you mean?”

Rick sighed. “I mean we need a walker.”

# # #

Bizarre, strange, and crazy wouldn’t even have covered how the night had turned out. Thoughts were twirling in her mind like a whirlwind, but she—she let go of the current this time, ran with the waves instead, let them carry her—whatever the weird situation they were going to have.

She was—just too fucking tired—too fucking relieved seeing him again, alive and breathing. After her initial shock wore off, she—she’d just wanted to crush him into a hug, holding him fiercely, assaulting his face with kisses, holding his head between her hands, so glad that he was alive— _alive_. He hadn’t died on her, just like he’d promised.

She really wished they could’ve been alone, so she really could’ve showed him how glad she was. But they weren’t alone, so she could only stare at him like a statue. Now Carl and Beth were still with them, with Mika sleeping half inside the tree’s hollow beside Judith. 

In front of them, there was the rotter she’d killed before. Rick bent down and cut it open and motioned at them with his head. “C’mon—do it.”

Amanda looked at the decaying corpse, shaking her head as both Carl and Beth bent and pushed their hands into it. They made faces as they went through with it, but something in their expressions told Amanda it wasn’t the first time they did this.

Rick gestured at her with his head, too. “C’mon, you too—” he told her. With a sigh, Amanda crouched beside the rotter.

The things they did to stay alive.

Holding her breath, raising her chin up, Amanda slid her hands in through the dead thing’s belly and tightened her fingers through the rotting entrails… Smell—oh god—the smell—she gagged as it hit her—and she almost threw up as her head turned, but she kept going.

She took her hands out and smeared the pieces of guts between her fingers over herself—turning her head aside, still gagging…

 _Do you have any idea what_ _it_ _is like to be on the road?_ he asked her in her mind again, and Amanda realized he’d been right. She’d thought knew—but she hadn’t. Not really.

She raised her eyes at him as he watched her smearing her hands more over her white tee. It was really getting chilly, she just realized, too. It felt like mundane things like cold had only managed to register to her as she saw goosebumps across her skin. Both Beth and Carl were wearing their jackets, as Amanda had left hers inside the house. Seeing her shivering, without a word, Rick took his off and draped it over her shoulders, stinking with rotters’ blood and guts.

Wordlessly, Amanda pushed her arms into it and wore the jacket over her tee. She still smelled his scent, as faint as it was underneath all other awful, gagging smells; a scent just of him, and it felt—nice. It reminded her of his embrace, the way his arms held her tightly.

She swallowed, leaning again to take another handful of rotting flesh and entrails as Rick did the same to cover his clean shirt underneath the jacket. Inside the corpse, their fingers touched each other. Their heads lifted as their gazes caught each other. Still inside the dead body, Rick held her hands and gave them a squeeze before he pulled his out.

Her heartbeat fastening, Amanda took hers out, too, and continued smearing the guts all over herself.

# # #

When they were finally alone, Rick guessed it was around midnight. Carl and Beth were sleeping beside the tree, making a natural barrier for the kids inside the trunk hollow.

Rick would really like at least to have a rope and a few cans to set up a perimeter, but they had nothing. Amanda came beside him as he was sitting a few feet away from the tree where the children huddled together, staring ahead to catch anything, living or dead, but so far everything sounded calm. For a change, things weren’t working against them.

Today was just another long day.

He wished tomorrow would be better, but Rick had learned not to keep his hopes up these days.

Amanda sat down beside him in silence, looking ahead at the tree line likewise, then shook her head. “What are we going to do, Rick?” she asked in a whisper, twisting her upper body towards him. “Do you think we could find Daryl?”

Rick shook his head. “No. I think we have a better chance of him finding us,” he told her truthfully. Daryl was the best tracker he’d ever known. If Rick could find them, Daryl would surely do it. Granted, Daryl didn’t know where they were or which direction they had gone after the funeral home, but still…

“But we can’t wait here,” Amanda whispered fiercely again. “It’s too dangerous! And we got nothing. Judith—Judith needs food, formula.”

“I know—” He let out a loaded sigh, bobbing his head. He _knew_. “Tomorrow—” he said, “Remember what you told me last night, walking out of the prison?” he asked, skipping a side look at her.

She did. Rick read it from the way she sighed in return. “A problem for tomorrow—” she said. “I know.”

Rick nodded again slowly, and they lapsed into another silence after that. It seemed almost _funny_ to him how they couldn’t talk to each other despite having a shitload of stuff to talk about—

“Those rotters—” Amanda broke the silence, interrupting his thoughts, still staring ahead. “It—it wasn’t something natural,” she remarked, her words almost on fire. “I still think it was Gorman.”

Holding back another sigh, Rick craned his neck to give her a look. “And _where_ is he now, Amanda?” he questioned. “Why would they take all that trouble with walkers and let us go?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know—” she said in return. “But—”

He shook his head again. “Amanda—please—” he almost implored, turning to her fully, and held her gaze. “ _Please_. We’re all here now. That’s what matters.”

She paused, looking at him, and swallowed. “I know—” she admitted and paused again. “I—I was so—scared, Rick—" She heaved a shaking breath, her eyes fixated on his. “I thought—I thought—”

Unable to finish, she stopped. Rick saw tears shining in her eyes as she shook her head, but when she spoke next, the fire was back in her tone, her glistened eyes lit with it, sparking like emeralds... She leaned toward him an inch. “Don’t you dare to do that to me ever— _ever_ again!”

Looking at her, Rick smiled at her wanly, and raising his hand, found her cheek. His fingertips gently brushed her skin. “I won’t. I promise.”

Amanda nodded, not flinching away from his touch, but she was still glaring at him. “Good—” she roughed out.

His eyes roamed all over her. She looked so beautiful—so alive—even covered with walkers’ guts and blood. He scooted closer to her, like he was drawn to—drawn to her—his eyes captivated with hers. She had such bright green eyes…alive… His gaze moved down an inch… towards her lips… swollen full lips half open, asking to be kissed.

Angling his head, Rick leaned forward and caught her lips. He started kissing her, carefully, slowly, only their lips touching. Craning her neck up towards him, she returned his kiss the way he did, slowly, carefully. Then it built up—the fire in them.

Rick moved forward further, not even caring about all the entrails and blood over them. He wanted her. He wanted her badly. He wanted her _now_.

He pushed her fully backward, all the while in his mind, the common sense screamed at him he should stop. But—but he almost died tonight. He’d thought he had died tonight. And she was here—so beautiful, so alive… And he wanted her. He _wanted_ her like he hadn’t wanted anyone for a long, _long_ while…

Her back hit the ground. Rick climbed over her in a heartbeat—their lips never breaking their contact—still kissing hungrily—desperately—his hand already finding its way down over to her belt. Under the tree, he was going to have her under a tree just like in his dreams…

In the silence of the woods something cracked—crunched—

They both stopped, frozen before Rick jerked his head up, checking out perimeters. Amanda lifted her head up from the ground, a few fallen leaves tangled into her locks—and Carl turned around. The low cracking sound whistled in the air again.

Rick pulled back off her, straightening up as Amanda drew up. They both stared ahead, not making any sound. There was a distant buzz inside his ears, his blood echoing in his eardrums. Beside him, Rick saw her hands tremble as she breathed out shakily.

She shook her head. Leaves fell out of her hair over her shoulders… A part of him wanted to reach out and sweep them off of her, brush his fingers through her locks again like he’d done in the funeral home, but he kept his hands to himself.

“I’m sorry—” he whispered, staring ahead in the darkness.

Amanda shook her head again, looking ahead as well. “What—what are we doing, Rick?” she asked, glancing at him. “I mean— _really_?”

Rick tried to find a suitable answer, tried to find the correct answer, tried to find the right answer, but in the end he realized he could only give her the only thing he had, the truth. “I—I don’t know, Amanda—” he confessed, and giving her a side look, he caught her eyes. “I told you we couldn’t figure this out now.”

She made a little scoff. “And aren’t you always right, Rick?”

He let out a little noncommittal sound, too, in answer. “I know this is hard for you,” he admitted, and turning his eyes away, he bowed his head.

He placed his hands on his knees, his voice so tight and strained, words leaving him with difficulty, but he had to. They—they had to have this talk, as well. “And I know I’m not making it easier, either.” Not him, nor his…issues, and Rick knew if they were going to do this, _more_ was going to follow.

“If—if you wouldn’t want to do it,” he continued, “I understand.” He lifted his head and looked her directly in the eyes. “I’m gonna ask you something, Amanda,” he stated. “If you say yes, we’ll never mention it again, and pretend whatever happened between us in these last two days never happened.” He paused and swallowed the tightness in his throat before he finally asked, “Do you—do you want us to stop?”

She didn’t answer at first, only gave him a look in return, then slowly remarked, “We hardly started anything, Rick.”

“We were almost having sex a few minutes ago, Amanda,” he retorted, his brows drawn together. “You know what it means.”

Again, she looked at him searchingly. “But your wife—You still love her.”

That wasn’t even a question, but a statement. Rick nodded. He was being…honest. “Lori and I—we—we had a very…complicated relationship, but yes, Amanda,” he told her. “I still love her.” He—he still did. It was hard to explain. Despite everything… Lori…she was his wife…

“She was my wife,” he continued, swallowing over the tightness again. “I should’ve protected her, kept her safe, but I couldn’t. And I’ll always have to live with that.”

“And Carl?” she asked further, gesturing with her head where Carl slept. “We both saw him today.”

In answer, Rick nodded. “No,” he admitted. “He—he wouldn’t take it well.”

“And with good reason,” she snapped, her voice turning catty as her frown grew deeper. “I mean, his father has started having the hots for another woman after—” She paused, giving him a nasty look with narrowed eyes. “ _Sorry_ —how long has passed since your wife’s death?” she asked snappishly, tilting her head to one side. “Eight months, give or take, I guess?”

He glared at her. “And how long have you waited to slap this in my face, Amanda?”

“Well, I don’t know, Rick—” she shot back. “You’re giving mixed signals. You act like she was the love of your life, but here we are, just eight months after her death, having this conversation.” She paused and muttered, shaking her head. “I—I don’t understand.”

Rick knew she wasn’t lying, since even he could hardly understand. For a moment or so, he even thought of telling her what had happened; between him and Lori, and Lori and Shane—Judith—even what he’d done… But… it was—it was just…too much… and she always said she liked things simple. “I told you we had a very…complicated relationship,” he remarked lowly after a second.

She snorted lightly. “Now, that was an elusive answer, Rick.”

“Well, Amanda, you haven’t still answered my question, either,” he shot back, turning to her before he asked directly again, “Do you want us to stop?”

She let out a huff, shaking her head again, then stood up and started walking away.

“That was a yes or no?” Rick whispered after her.

She spun on her heel and gave him a look. “That,” she answered, “was an ‘I don’t know. Ask me the next time’, Rick.”

With that, she turned again, and resumed her walking, all covered with blood and guts. Turning ahead, Rick continued to stare at the dark, and thought perhaps it was the best answer he could get from her at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So--here we are-- "I don't know--ask me the next time." I think I wouldn't have finished this chapter in any other way, because they just couldn't happen right now--it would be so unrealistic, and it wasn't these two. When I first started writing this chapter, I thought of Rick explaining to her what happened with Lori--but it felt--so contrived--not like Rick--I had to forsake the idea, because I don't believe Rick is capable of having that conversation right now--so personal, and it's also about his kids--so the natural flow of the conversation went like this, as I also don't want them to get too close--into a real relationships.  
> And Carl--well, Carl is problematic. At Adaptation, I didn't have any problem, as he was in different set of mind there, too, more like 'whatever' teenage stage--but here Carl is different. He's got a good rapport with Amanda--but his father having a thing with another woman in these times--I don't think he would like it--as he was already furious at him for different reasons too. That would be a last straw.
> 
> Anyways, I'm really curious of your opinions, so let me know, please :D
> 
> And how those walkers came up--was it Gorman or not--or someone else? Or just another bad day--Where's Daryl? Where is the Claimers? He he... Nope, they are still not out of the woods--Amanda's education about a life on the road has just started :D


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold--we start this chapter with a Daryl POV! (the stupidest Dixon has ever lived:) This was the line with I actually started writing for TWD, so it also has a special place in my heart, likewise Daryl)  
> This chapter is gonna be talky chapter again, but this time it's girl time talk!  
> Enjoy.

**XXIX.**

Finding himself a path through the woodlands in the dim moonlight, the hunter in his late thirties was on prowl. He knew the woods as well as he knew himself; each tree, each plant, each bush, what to eat, what to drink and not, what animal to approach, what animal to stay away from. He knew it all too well, so as he stalked through the forage as silent as a sleek predator of the night, he knew exactly to what kind of a stupid suck ass plan he’d said _yes_ _to._

Though, still here he was; prancing through trees, looking for any sign that would give him a clue, not only because they all had asked, but because he’d wanted to.

Daryl Dixon was a damned sucker in that way, too.

In his mind, he heard his older brother’s distinctive dry voice— _the stupidest Dixon that has ever lived…_

Even though that might be the case, perhaps the sheer stupidity ran through their bloodline as well. Aside from being assholes, Dixons were kinda suckers, too. Even his big brother had turned to a sucker asshole at the end.

Perhaps—like the girl had said, it wouldn’t hurt to keep a little bit of faith.

_Faith._

Look where faith had gotten them. Daryl made a small derisive sound, a low grumble out of his chest, careful not to spook any nightly creature, alive or dead. One always must be the most careful dealing with the woods at night. The ground, especially this time of the year, was always tricky, roots and holes hiding a lot of traps under falling leaves. One incautious misstep, one slip, then you were done sure as fuck.

Yet, _still_ , here he was—lurking through the trees, looking for trails—for a sign—for anything—for _anyone_ —because deep down, somewhere in his deep, deep chest, there was something else, too. A voice—not derisive or cutting like his old man, perhaps his damn conscience—a voice telling him he…he could’ve stopped this if only—if only—

Daryl cut the thought short. Dixons didn’t second guess any shit. It wasn’t the Dixon way. They took whatever the fuck the life decided to throw at them and sucked it down like lemonade…with a lot of alcohol. Perhaps if he hadn’t stopped looking for that sonofabitch like Michonne hadn’t, he could’ve really hindered all of this. But what had happened, had happened.

And they were here, him in the woods at night, implementing one of the stupidest, most suckass plans ever known to mankind.

The stupidest Dixon had ever lived.

He bowed his head, making his way over the railway tracks, but then he caught it. It was over the muddy dirt path in dark brown covered with fallen leaves; two sets of footprints—going _away_ from the tracks.

Two sets of footprints, half pressed in the muddy earth, one narrow and long, but not too deep, possibly belonging to a tall, but skinny man. The other set was small, tiny, and light, as if their feet barely touched the ground as they ran. And they had _been_ running, Daryl read; quick, half prints one on another—crisscrossed.

He turned around and checked around. He saw other prints, too, long—lingering—dragged… Walkers.

They’d been running away from walkers. He touched the prints, trying to detect how long had passed. There had been no rain for a while. Although the earth was moist with dew, Daryl knew they weren’t old. Not much, they were still fresh.

To his right, there were the tracks where their people surely would go, where they’d decided to check for, too, but this trail was _still_ fresh.

So, drawing up to his feet, Daryl stood and made his decision.

Grumbling, he turned to the left.

# # #

Blinking away the sunlight that crept in through her eyelids, Amanda woke up from her restless sleep. She twisted aside from her spot beside Beth a few steps away from the tree, placing her palms down on the ground over the fallen leaves before she slowly started straightening up,

A new day, a new morning.

And…a new headache drumming behind her brows and eyes into her brain. Her temples throbbed with it, surely a combination of lack of sleep, dehydration, hunger, trauma, and stress.

Her current lifestyle in a nutshell.

Together with the killer headache, her body was aching from trying to sleep on the hard ground. Her arm felt listless, like a stone, tingling as she had slept on it, and the smells… god, the smells…

She smelled awful; blood and entrails and other things, dirty, dusted clothes caked with dried blood and sweat. But from the better side, with her current condition, there was so little room left for any thought regarding the talk she’d had with Rick last night, even though it was the _first_ damn thing that came to her damn mind. So Amanda tried to welcome her pounding head, her grumbling stomach, and her tight throat.

Though _still_ she failed. Her eyes skipped aside and found him still sitting at the same spot where she left him last night, _still_ staring ahead.

Well, it was her who had stayed awake the other night in the house, keeping watch the whole night, keeping an eye on him as he lay unconscious, listening to his _moans_ _,_ so Amanda guessed it was his turn.

Not that she had slept enough, of course. Sleep had eluded her until she finally dozed off a few hours before dawn out of fatigue, but at least this time she wasn’t the only one. _That was an “I don’t know. Ask the next time” Rick._

God!

Everything—everything was so difficult, and she had no idea why. She was hardly an expert on the subject, but she’d always heard that relationships shouldn’t be this difficult. They had to follow a natural flow, not forced. Even she knew that. But they—they had a natural flow, didn’t they? They…they managed to get close like it was the simplest, easiest thing in the world, then something just happened, and they lost it.

It’d been so easy, so _easy_ to kiss him last night. The way they were drawn to each other, reaching out. They’d started kissing, and somehow she found herself falling backwards, she didn’t even understand. It just happened, following the flow. In a matter of the blink of an eye, she was on her back on the ground, and he was climbing over her. She wanted him—she wanted him so much, wanted to be under him, feel him inside, wrap her legs around him—so easy. It was so easy…then a single sound—a single crunch of a twig—and puff!

Gone.

She guessed reality again kicked back in, the fact that they were an inch away from fucking in front of two teenagers, a kid, and a baby.

God—perhaps they really were _just_ horny.

That would explain a lot of shit.

_Yes—I still love her…_

The words hurt her—more than she’d expected, more than she’d given herself credit for. She knew it—of course, she did, but hearing it from him—no. She didn’t _like_ it.

Amanda felt the headache getting worse at the thought. She tried to push it away, tried to tell herself it was no big deal, and goddammit! A part of her still wondered what happened between them, why the hell their relationship was so complicated, as the other part knew she just had to stay the fuck away, not get herself more tangled into his drama.

She...she just didn’t know, and she was getting _seriously_ pissed off with his mixed signals; the night moaning his dead wife’s name in his sleep, the morning walking in front of a gun for her… _accidently_ causing a troubled girl to commit suicide all in the meanwhile!

GOD!

This was some killer headache she had!

She brought her hand over the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the pressure there. Her other hand was still holding the ground as she sat on her side, then she heard the soft baby cries.

There it started…a new day truly beginning, in which they got a baby beginning a new day, possibly crying out of hunger.

The thought stopped all the other silliness in her mind. A baby crying out of hunger.

Beth had said she couldn’t have fed Judith before they had to run away, so Amanda had to soothed her to sleep with an already empty stomach, but now it must be even worse. They needed to get their shit back together. This was no time for this silliness.

Turning aside, she scooted closer to the tree. Beth and Carl had gotten up, too, hearing Judith. Mika came out from where she’d crawled inside the hollow. Amanda, sitting on her knees, took the baby out of the leaves-nest bed.

Poor thing—poor little thing…having to live through this shit. She bowed her head and brushed a light kiss on her head as a shadow fell over them. Rick had come over, as well.

Securing the baby closer to her chest, Amanda raised her head and stood up. She walked away a few steps from the youngsters to have a bit of privacy to discuss the situation. “She’s hungry. She gotta eat before we do anything,” she said.

Rick nodded, a stern expression over his face. Blood drops were caked over his beard, dirt over his cheeks. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, dehydration, fatigue, and stress. Like her, Amanda guessed he also had a headache the way the vein in his temples throbbed, and there were also his wounds. Overall, he still wasn’t in the best shape, though there was nothing to do about it now.

In his eyes, there was again that look as he watched her as Amanda stood with Judith in her arms, the baby making soft cries, thank god, not shrill screams that would bring rotters upon them. The things that you started being grateful for out in the woods.

Rick still looked partly surprised seeing her with Judith like this, the lingering shock still apparent in his gaze. But he didn’t make an inquiry, so she chose to pretend as if it weren’t there at all. He also didn’t make an attempt to take the baby from her, so she guessed he was also okay with it.

“I’ll go foraging—” he informed her. Amanda nodded in answer, bouncing the baby girl to hush her. “There gotta be some walnuts or pecans around, fruits and berries,” he continued as his eyes surveyed the woods. “We can mash them together. I’ll pick up some weeds and plants, too.”

Good thing that Rick knew his plants. She really needed to learn more about wildlife, how to track, how to hunt, how to set up snares, what to pick up, and what to stay away from.

“We need water, too,” she said over Judith’s wheezing cries. “Shsss….shsss…” she muttered, looking down, her arms still bouncing the baby. She lifted her head, every movement of her head cutting through her brain as Amanda forced herself not to frown. “Try to find some, ‘kay?”

Rick nodded, but his eyes turned keener as he looked at her searchingly. “You okay?”

She let out a little bitter smile and instantly regretted it. She darted her eyes downward, feeling the same nervousness coming at her with his scrutiny, trying to peel her protective layers away. She was too fucking tired for that shit. “Headache,” she mumbled. “Barely slept in two days.”

And his eyes grew even tenser; she felt it from his stare. “Didn’t you sleep last night?”

She sucked in a sharp breath, anger finding her again. “ _Just_ go find us something to eat before we all faint,” she sneered, sending him a glare, her head splitting in two. “We’ve barely eaten in two days, too!”

With another look at her, Rick nodded again. “Okay.”

“And take Carl,” she ordered and continued before he could say anything back. “I _don’t_ want anyone of us alone—”

He gave her another bob of his head, inclining it as well. “Yeah—” Then his eyes found her again. “When we come back, we talk—” Her eyebrows drew together on their own accounts hearing the word. “— _about_ what we should do,” he clarified quickly, stressing out the word. She guessed there wouldn’t be any _talk_ for them for a while. “I think we should wait for Daryl instead of wandering in the woods,” Rick went on.

Bouncing the baby in her arms, Amanda sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll talk about it,” she agreed. “But first, Judith needs to eat. _Go_.”

He nodded again, and started turning. “Be careful,” he told her. “We won’t go far away. If something happens, scream—”

Despite herself, Amanda laughed. “ _Scream?_ ”

He shrugged, walking away, his upper body still turned aside to her. “Yeah—you know—” Faltering, he gave off another shrug, and this time in his eyes there was a sheepish look, so unlike him, almost _boyish_. Her stomach tightened as he turned to the other side toward Carl. “Carl—come,” he called out to his boy. “We'll go look for food.”

As the father and son walked away, Beth came to her side, her eyes watching them, too. Feeling the tiredness deep in her bones, Amanda sat on the ground, settling Judith beside her legs. Over six months old, Judith had already started crawling in the prison, making watching over her a lot harder as she slowly discovered the nature of curiosity and freedom.

Resting her back against the oak’s trunk, Amanda laid her leg as a barrier for Judith as she half pulled the baby over her lap. Judith’s cries softened more as her fingers softly played across her back. Oddly, the gesture soothed her as much as it did Judith, as Judith half played, half crawled in front of her. Amanda wished they could have a blanket to spread so the baby would really play. She raised her head and noticed Mika started wandering away— “Mika, stay close,” she called out to the little’s girls back. “Remember, three steps.”

The girl nodded, returning to her as Beth settled down at her left side, blocking Judith’s other side. “Yes, Amanda,” Mika said dutifully as she sat down three steps away from them and started playing with the fallen leaves and acorns on the ground, much like Judith.

Amanda felt sad, so sad, almost started crying, but she had no idea why as well. Beth looked at the girl, her wide blue eyes glistening, too. “Being a child in this world—” she whispered. “So cruel…”

Amanda didn’t say anything. Beth looked at her, twisting her head aside. “Lizzie—what happened with her, Amanda?” the teenager asked in another whisper.

Amanda shook her head. “We—we happened, Beth—” she said truthfully. “Rick and I—” She let out a little sigh. “We fucked it up, and Lizzie paid the price.”

Beth stayed in silence for a while then started picking up acorns over the ground. Amanda gave the girl a look. “We can smash and eat them,” she answered Amanda’s unspoken inquiry. “Carol used to do it when we were on the road. We used it as flour.”

Amanda nodded silent, pulling Judith further across her lap, who was just softly sobbing now. Beth moved a few steps and took a cloth out of her back pocket. Facing her this time, she lay it down and sat crisscrossed on the ground.

The teenager started putting the nuts she gathered over the cloth. “No,” she said with a small voice so Mika couldn’t hear them. “I don’t believe that.” She lifted her eyes at Amanda. “I know you.”

“Well, there’s some back story, of course,” Amanda accepted with the same tone. “But in essence, it was what happened.”

Beth gave her another look. “Backstories are important,” she encountered. “Without them, you can’t have a good story.” She picked up another acorn. “Only one-dimensional characters doing…stuff.” She smiled a little ruefully. “I know a bit of writing.”

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Really? Stories?” she asked, holding Judith’s hand as the baby climbed up over her bosom and started pulling the ends of her locks.

Beth shook her head. “Nope. Songs—” She gave out a loud sigh. “I wanted to be a songwriter and singer,” she told Amanda. “Writing my stories with poems and notes.”

Amanda looked at her, feeling the same ruefulness, heartsick, knowing how much they’d all lost, but said, “You still can do it, Beth. We still need songs.”

Beth gave her a nod in accordance. “I guess. My father used to make me sing in the prison,” she remarked. “Especially on special occasions. The Parting Glass. You know the song?”

Amanda shook her head, catching Judith again as she tried to climb further over her chest, the baby’s tiny hand fisted through her hair. “No. I don’t think I do.”

“It’s an old traditional Scottish song, but we Irish, also sing it at the end of family gatherings. The first night we found the prison, we camped outside in the lawn. Rick and others hadn’t still yet cleared out the blocks. Daddy made me sing it,” Beth went on. “We sang it together. Maggie and I.” She looked at Amanda, her face suddenly beaming, as if her sorrow lifted a bit, and Amanda saw the Beth Greene she’d seen when she’d first come to the prison.

“I—I’m gonna teach it to you,” Beth announced, her voice sounding…determined. “So when we find Maggie and others again, we can sing it together.” Her smile grew bigger. “The Greene girls.”

The Greene girls… Reflecting her smile, scooting Judith back down toward her lap, Amanda nodded before she forced out over a lump in her throat, her voice rough with emotions, “I’d love that, Beth.”

The Greene Girls. She _really_ would love that.

Coming back to her side, Beth nodded and sat down. She pulled out her knife and started cracking the hard shells of the nuts. Amanda really would like that, if they ever came together again, but she couldn’t tell it to the teenager. She didn’t want to think on it, either. She wanted to keep up faith. But after everything, it was getting harder.

She looked around, assessing for any trouble, but everything seemed calm—too calm. Nothing stayed calm in their life for long anymore, disasters always an inch away to befall them, so she waited for rotters to show up or Gorman—or some other big bad wolf of the woods. With any luck, they would find a hunter instead, but she wasn’t big on luck these days.

“I saw you and Rick last night,” Out of blue, Beth announced in another whisper. Amanda stopped breathing for a second, all thoughts leaving her…as Beth stayed hunched over her job, crushing the acorns with her knife over the cloth...

…and Amanda stared…stared…stared… still holding Judith, frozen, too shocked to do anything else. Heat emitted out of her every pore, burned her… “I—I wasn’t trying to see anything—” Beth continued. “I couldn’t sleep—you know. I was just laying down, then I heard you talking to each other.”

Amanda _still_ stared… “Then you started kissing…” She lifted her head, trailing off as her wide blue eyes found Amanda's. “Uh…I was very careful not to make any noise…but Carl—"

As if it were even possible, heat burned her further. “Was—w-was h-he a-awake, too?” she asked, stumbling on the words, but thank god for all things sacred and good, Beth shook her head.

“No. He was sleeping. He just turned in his sleep.”

Amanda let out a breath in relief. “Um—um—we kissed,” she said lowly, still not knowing what else to say.

Beth gave her a pointed look. “Well, I’m not an expert on the case— _yet_ —” she said, stressing out the last part, “but it seemed like you were about to do much more than that.”

“Uh—uh—”

“Then you started talking again, then you left—quite… _frustrated_ , I daresay.”

“Uh—uh—” Amanda made another noise. “It…kinda happened.”

“I’m glad—” Beth told her, then in seriousness, turning back to her acorns. “I think Rick needs someone."

She shook her head and forced herself to collect her shit. “Beth—” she started, clearing her voice. “Nothing’s happening. It was just a kiss. We got carried away. We—um—Rick… he’s mourning. Still loves his wife. And I don’t think Carl would like it… And I don’t even want a relationship—”

She didn’t, did she? She—she didn’t do relationships.

“Why?” Beth asked, lifting her head up to her again.

Amanda shrugged. “I’m not girlfriend material.”

The teenager’s eyes moved toward Judith who was still struggling over her to reach her hair… “Ya sure?” she asked back.

As if she was caught, Amanda bowed her head, her hand still holding Judith’s. “Carl—” she said, moving the topic away from _her_. “He wouldn’t take it well if his father moved on to another woman just yet.”

Beth smiled at her victoriously. “So you want a relationship?”

She gaped at the girl, her mouth opening a little bit. “I—I didn’t say that!” she whispered.

“But you sounded as if you would want it, if Carl was okay with it—” Beth insisted, almost innocently. Amanda didn’t buy it.

She fixed the girl her best cop look. “Don’t play semantics with me, Beth Greene—” she retorted. “You know what I mean.”

Unabashed, Beth shrugged. “Well, I guess you’re right on Carl,” she admitted. “He wouldn’t like it.” She paused a little, her brows knitting. “I heard Maggie had a very hard time when my father married Mom. Maggie and I—we’re half sisters.”

Amanda stared at the young girl, surprised. “Really?”

Beth nodded. “Yes. They say Maggie made a real fuss about it at first, but since I know myself, I always heard her call my mother, Mom, too.”

“I guess it’s a part of growing up,” Amanda muttered, looking down at the baby as she gently moved her over her lap again. “—accepting things we aren’t happy with.”

Beth nodded again in agreement. “In any case, I think Carl already likes you,” she remarked as Amanda lifted her head up to look at her again over Judith. “He thinks you’re smart and cool.”

“Really?” Beth nodded. “How do you know?” Amanda inquired, noticing how…hopeful and…relieved her voice sounded.

She almost let out another sigh as Beth answered with a shrug. “He told me so.”

Had Carl really said that? Smart and cool? She felt…she wasn’t sure exactly. Content? “He also figured out it was you who talked Rick into letting him go to the fences before we left for Grady.” Beth gave her a smile with a pointed look. “You scored a good point with him on that.”

A frown pinched her brows together, her headache getting worse. “I—I wasn’t trying that.”

She hadn’t. She’d talked with Rick because it felt as if it was the right thing to do, like telling him they shouldn’t shelter Beth, and she’d been right. Last night, Beth had watched her back, quite well, too, given the circumstances. She didn’t talk to Rick to get into good graces of Carl. She wondered if the teenager would think like that if he learned about them. Think she was trying to show to him how good a stepmother she would make—

Her thoughts stopped frozen. _Stepmother?_

God!

“I _know_ —” Beth laughed at her faintly. “You sent me to pick up Judith in the middle of the night because you couldn’t do it yourself.” The teenager shook her head. “Sometimes you’re really hopeless, Mandy.”

The way Beth used the nickname made her laugh silently, too, as she found herself…not bothered by the usage, perhaps for the first time. In fact, it felt like they were really two sisters talking about boys and stuff. It was nice, _normal_ … “Did you see the way Rick looked at you when he saw you with Judith yesterday?” she went on. “He was so…shocked, I almost started laughing—I mean—I would’ve…” She paused. “If we weren’t surrounded with walkers and all, that is.”

Amanda let out a breath. “I know what you mean…”

Beth pointed her knife up in the air. “In any case,” she said. “I wanted you to know that I support you two.”

Amanda smiled faintly again— “Um—thanks… I guess.” She cleared her throat. “But there’s nothing to support.”

“Yet?” Beth asked _innocently_ , wide blue eyes staring at her, and Amanda knew Beth Greene was really becoming a very smart, sly young woman who had a thing seeing through bullshit.

The girl went on. “See, it’s a Greene girls thing,” she explained. “When Maggie started college, we—we had an episode. I—I uh caught her with…condoms… I was a bit more naïve then…” She smiled, her innocence peeking out. “Caused a scene. Maggie and I promised each other we’d never have a boyfriend without each other’s support afterward.” She took a breath. “I supported Glenn, too.”

Amanda nodded. “Glenn is a very good man.”

Beth gave her a look. “Rick’s a very good man, too—” she said. “My father always used to say we need men like Rick now.”

She wondered what Hershel Greene might’ve thought of that now. She then recalled something she hadn’t before… the expression over the Greene’s patriarch’s face when Rick had made his stupid speech, telling them they could all change. There was pride over the old man’s face, very similar to a father who was proud of his son, looking at Rick with his expression saying it all. In his last minutes, Hershel Greene had been proud of Rick Grimes.

 _My father would’ve understood_ —she recalled Beth’s words, too…

Before she knew it, she started speaking… “I don’t understand him,” she whispered and confessed. “Sometimes he—he doesn’t make sense.”

And it wasn’t even his feelings for his late wife. But the _things_ he generally did. First, he sent Lizzie and Mika upstairs, not letting the girls watch while they cleansed his wounds with boiled wine. He’d been that kind and thoughtful, but then the next morning, he was prepared to leave the girl to a cruel fate.

She knew he had his reasons, the biggest of them was just sitting in her lap, playing with her hair, but…but the contrast between two opposites was so large, was so mind blowing, Amanda felt…lost in the chasm.

What would you do with a man like that? A man who walked in front of a gun for you one moment, then the next told you he was still in love with another…? Stay the fuck away?

Amanda let out a sigh. “He—uh, showed me he had…intentions to figure out whatever this thing between us after we find a place to settle again,” she told the girl truthfully. “But he also admitted he’s still in love with his wife.”

Beth looked at her and said simply, “His _dead_ wife.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He still loves her.”

Beth shook her head in return. “You can’t stop loving someone just because they’re dead. I—I _can’t_ stop loving my father or mother just because they died, Amanda.”

“It’s different—” she replied, but Beth cut her off.

“No, it’s the same,” the young teenager countered. “It’s death and love. I don’t think my father stopped loving Maggie’s mother after her death, either. No. He still loved her, but he loved my mother, as well.” He paused. “It—it shouldn’t be a competition,” she remarked, “Josephine, Maggie’s mother, was dead, but my father was still alive, so he lived. Loved another.”

Amanda swallowed. “I—I’m not sure if I can deal with it, Beth,” she confessed then, too, because she really didn’t know. It hurt—it _hurt_ hearing him moaning the woman’s name…hearing his admission. It just did. “I—I didn’t like it—hearing it. I didn’t like it.”

“Of course, you didn’t—” Beth said. “But remember what you said. A part of growing up is accepting stuff you’re not happy with.”

At that, Amanda laughed lowly. “Beth Greene, are you—are you calling me… _childish_?”

“Well, it’s any consolation, I wouldn’t like it myself, either, I think…” the teenager said with a little sigh. “It’s…easier to talk about such stuff when it’s not about you, huh?” Her expression turned more serious after that, almost thoughtful. “But I think Lori and Rick’s relationship was much more…complicated than my father and Maggie’s mother’s,” she stated. “They—”

 _Complicated…_ Raising her hand, Amanda stopped her. “Beth, stop.” She shook her head. “I—I don’t want to know. I can’t deal with this now.”

She just couldn’t. Things were already too complicated for _her_ as it was. She didn’t want to learn how…complicated they were for Rick and his dead love. It was too much for her, way too much. She—she didn’t do dramas, and she didn’t do relationships, either.

And she fucking hated it when things got complicated!

Beth nodded, giving her a look. “I’m sorry—” the girl said. “I—I didn’t want to upset you.”

Amanda shook her head. “I know. You didn’t. It’s just too much now,” she repeated with a sigh. “We got other problems.” She looked down at the baby. They didn’t have time for this...

In silence, Beth nodded again.

God!

She really wanted her old life back. When everything was just plain and simple, when emotions didn’t baffle, when people didn’t confuse, the times that she was protected behind her rules, routines, and labels, didn’t have to treat through the blurred lines to make sense.

Now, look at her—covered with guts of rotters, her hair—her loose hair all caked with dirt and blood, a headache pounding in her head, barely sleeping in two days, smelling awful, feeling awful, aching awful—her stomach grumbling—her throat so tight scratching, her tongue felt like a dry paper…

…A part of her wanting a man like she’d never felt before as the other part wanted to run away from him as fast as possible, all the while sitting against a tree lost in the woods with his baby girl in her arms…waiting for him to return so she could feed his starving baby.

Speaking of which… where the hell _was_ he?

Judith really needed to eat something. Like now.

She started standing up, just because she had to do something—gathering Judith in her arms and started making rounds. She lifted her head and tried to check the sun’s position. It was still early in the morning. She couldn’t be sure of the exact timeline, but they’d been talking with Beth quite a lot. There was a big heap of crushed acorns in front of the teenager now.

A familiar dread caught her again, a twinge squeezing in her chest. Her eyes swept the tree lines…empty. “Beth, how long do you think has passed since they left?” she asked, twisting aside to the girl.

Beth gave her a look. “Around an hour, I guess. Less, but not more.”

“Something’s wrong—” She felt it—deep inside her—that tingle—that instinct she’d developed over the years. Something made the hair on her back standing, and she didn’t _like_ it.

She drew her gun. “Beth, up. Take out your gun. Guard my back,” she ordered as Beth leaped up, not making her repeat the order. They took the position as Amanda turned to Mika, “Mika, get behind us.”

Then it happened. It just fucking happened—and she _knew_ it—she _fucking_ knew it!

Out of the trees, Rick and Carl walked out—their hands behind their necks with guns pointing at their heads. The next Amanda saw the others, too.

She’d told him! She’d _fucking_ told him too!

Tightening her grip over Judith with one arm, she raised the other with her gun—rage, anger, fear, and dread running all over her like a giant wave. “Let them go—” she spat with venom, the gun trained on his head. “Let them go NOW!”

Ahead of her, her former colleague Sergeant John Gorman, aka the sonofabitch she’d swore to rip off his dick and make him choke on it, walked in front of them, giving her a curious look, his eyes wandering over her head to toe… “Man, fuck!” the piece of shit exclaimed, “You look like shit!”

# # #

Three men standing behind them, and the other sonofabitch walked toward Amanda. Rick felt tense like a drawn bow—seeing her. Her hand was almost shaking as she held the gun on the bastard, Judith still in her arms.

Fuck it!

She’d told him—she’d fucking told him—and he—he still got caught like a fly in a fucking trap. They all were going to pay for yet another of his mistakes.

“Look at you—” the man sneered with a sinister look, getting closer as if Amanda wasn’t holding a gun pointed at him, as if he knew damn well she couldn’t take any shot while they were standing here, with guns pointed at them. 

Three men—three dirty _cops_ pointed their guns at him and his son.

Carl.

He closed his eyes for a second as Amanda kept glaring at the man. For a second, Rick thought if she kept doing it, she _might_ kill the bastard with her eyes with sheer willpower and hatred… “Lower your gun—”the bastard ordered her, not taken aback. “I came to talk.”

She didn’t. “C’mon, Mandy—” he taunted her. “We both know you won’t shoot,” he said with a sigh. “You did your dramatics. Lower the gun now, so we can talk.”

“Talk?” she snapped, “What do we have to talk about?”

The bastard’s answer didn’t miss a beat, “Business,” he shot back, “I’m not here to kill you, Shepherd,” he then declared, giving her a look before he concluded, “I’m here because I want you back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha, so, bet you didn't see it coming, huh?  
> So--I was thinking how a confrontation between Gorman and Amanda would go like--spinning ideas, as I felt Amanda still needed a closure for that aspect, as she's still obsessed with him--and I thought on it--then suddenly realized that it didn't have to be *guns blazing* The thing with Grady--all of them were kinda dragging their feet for an open confrontation--even Gorman, letting Dawn rule as long as she kept him happy. Things got worse when Amanda brought Rick and Co., but after she left--I imagine them getting even worse under Gorman's rule--and a leader always have to satisfy his people in the long run--so I thought--perhaps Gorman would just want her *back*--you know--I tried to kill you, you tried to kill me, but it was nothing personal, it was--*business*. And, you really look like shit, so let's forget all about this, and you come back, and we deal with our stuff like we always do. I thought it more likely then him coming after her just to kill her out of revenge. All in frankness, Amanda doesn't matter to Gorman a shit. But as a cop, as a smart, capable cop she *does*. So this happened, and I think it also would give Amanda a real struggle, because she's started feeling the real toll of being on the road--and everything else with Rick--and here her chance--just forget everything else, and be *herself* again.
> 
> I LOVED--LOVED writing this chapter the talk between Beth and Amanda--I so missed them having girl talk about boys like in Adaptation, and Beth is being there for her again, telling her about Maggie and her mother, and the Parting Glass! Now--I just need to get them together somewhere in the future, make them sing that song! the Greene girls!
> 
> This chapter is really--different for me, I'm also very curious about your opinions, so, please, let me know!  
> And sooooorry, for the long author note. I'm a bit more chatty today--more than usual :D Gorman got me, I guess :D


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, managed to finish the chapter! Even though Gorman was really hard to deal with, I'm a kinda excited to finally coming to this point :)  
> Enjoy.

**XXX.**

_I’m here because I want you back._

The words didn’t make any sense, but with Judith still wrapped under her other arm tightly against her upper side, Amanda lowered her gun. Because the bastard’s other declaration made sense, that she wasn’t going to shoot, not when O’Donnell, Licari, and Jeffries were all pointing guns at Rick and Carl.

She knew it. She fucking _did_. Though she guessed it was about time, too, for the face off she’d been waiting for a long time. Her fingers still tight on the gun, Amanda turned, taking a sidestep. She reached out to give Judith to Beth, who stood a few feet behind her.

She sensed Gorman’s eyes following her as she did, then landed on Beth. Amanda wanted to gouge his eyes out of their sockets, her stomach coiling, but holding on her anger, she returned her attention to the slimeball in front of her. She had to play it smart. They had the numbers and the guns. She still had her gun, Beth had hers, but Rick and Carl weren’t out of danger. Rick might get himself and Carl out of the way if she decided to act quickly, but it was too risky, just too risky, especially when they had Judith.

Besides, Gorman was playing nice. He _really_ wanted something from her. That much was plainly obvious. He’d _let_ her keep the gun.

She motioned with her head. “If you want to talk, this is not a good way to start a conversation—” she said, trying to keep her voice cool. “Pointing guns at my friends.”

“That’s only a precaution,” the bastard countered. “But, right, lemme show you my good intentions.” He gestured at O’Donnell. “Let the boy go.”

O’Donnell pushed Carl towards Beth as Rick glowered, stern blue eyes glinting dangerously. Even in his current situation, it was a sight to behold.

Her other two former colleagues made Rick walk toward them. “You see, I even kept the Deputy alive,” the snake of a man remarked further, then paused, his brows furrowing as he twisted toward Rick. “That's you, right?” he inquired as they made Rick kneel on the ground a few feet away from her, facing their captors. Rick was still glowering at them with a silent fury.

“ _The_ Deputy?” the sonofabitch went on, his eyes on Rick. “We didn’t have time for introductions in the woods, but I think it’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me—” Rick grounded with a voice curt as a blade. “What—”

Gorman cut him off, turning back to her. “See how reasonable I was, Mandy?” he asked with a sickly-sweet tone. “I heard about the Death Wing, how the Deputy cleared it.” He paused again, a vile smirk touching at his lips, his cheeks plump and reddish.

And they were clean, their everything was clean; hair, clothes, skin—everything. Anger blazed through her like a wildfire. How—how would these assholes look so _clean_ when they were so dirty! It wasn’t fair! It disgusted her, she felt bile deep in her empty stomach surge with contempt, but underneath…underneath…she felt it, too… the bitter jealousy like she used to feel seeing seemingly happy families at the picnics. It was a whole pretense. She knew who cheated on who, who lied on who, who hated who, all the while they looked happy, pretending, and she hated it. She hated that she still _felt_ it… “Thank you by the way, Deputy,” Gorman shot at Rick mockingly, his eyes skipping to him for a split second. “We appreciated it greatly.”

The mocking tone, the way they’d risked everything, the way Dawn had made them clear the warehouse, her contempt and jealousy…everything— _everything_ assaulted her all at once, blazing her fury further. “Cut the bullshit, Gorman—” she spat, taking another step toward him. “What do you want? Say it openly.”

“I told you—” the man replied, not taken aback with the venom in her tone. “I want you back.”

“You _want_ me back?” she repeated, not believing it a second. “Seriously you want me _back_?”

“Well, Amanda,” the bastard said. “You can be a pain in the ass, but you’re a good cop. And—” he paused. “I’m in a dire need of good cops.”

She shook her head. “You—you tried to kill me _three times!_ ” she almost shouted. “You killed Lamson!”

The man flinched back, as if he was hurt. “Only _twice_ —” he corrected her with another sick smile. “The first time I just didn’t save you. But I didn’t mean to shoot you, not really.” He let out a breath. “The other times, well, they were nothing personal,” he went on like he was talking about the weather. “You and Lamson forced my hands. I had no choice.” His eyes bore through her then after the words, almost accusing. “You two _started_ this. I ended.”

Her grip on the gun tightened, her inner side of her knuckles started hurting. “You—you—”

The man took a step toward her, cutting her off from her group. Rick tried to make a move to stand up immediately, as Gorman moved, but Licari raised his gun higher in response. “Why, Shepherd, you knew damn well not to disturb our status quo like that!” Gorman rattled off. “We had a very delicate balance!”

“ _Status quo_!” Amanda spat again. “Status quo…as long as it keeps _you_ happy!”

Then the slimeball bastard did something she couldn’t have foreseen even in her wildest dreams. He reached out a hand to her, heaving a sigh. “I know I’ve been hard to deal with lately,” he admitted. “And with Joan—” He shook his head. “All I wanted was to have a little bit of appreciation, Amanda,” he remarked, almost _hurt_ as she looked at him incredulously. “Joan and I—we had a very…complicated relationship.”

Anger swept all over her again… And she fucking _hated_ that word! “C-c-complicated?” she sputtered out. “You-you call what you did to her _that_?”

“That’s between me and my girlfriend,” he replied coldly, a dark glint entering into his eyes as his expression shifted. “Speaking of which, where is she? I heard she left with you.”

“She’s not here,” Amanda answered quickly. “I haven’t seen her for days.”

Days—two days. It wasn’t even a lie.

He was silent at first, assessing her with a stare, then he heaved out another sigh. “Well, she made her choice, I guess—” he slowly remarked and turned his gaze on her again. “I’m not here for her anyways.” His eyes stayed on hers. “I’m here for _you_.”

“Speaking of which—” She returned his words back in a sneer. “W _hy_? Why are you _here_?” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “Was it you? You brought rotters onto us?” She knew it—she’d fucking _knew_ it.

But the bastard barked out a laughter. “Don’t flatter yourself! I wouldn’t risk _that_ much for you. We were coming to check the house. Then we saw you. I was going to come to talk then, but when rotters came, we waited out for the night.”

“So what, it was just a coincidence?” she spat back, but a part of her knew that he told the truth. He—he wouldn’t risk that much for _her_. She wanted to believe it was him, not just their bad luck or a cruel fate, but when it came time to think of it, it really didn’t make sense.

“It’s a small world,” the bastard said with a shrug. She glared at him. This was fucking ridiculous. She’d made him a promise. She wanted to kill him! _This_ —their face-off couldn’t be like this. She—she should rip off his dick and make him eat it… She shouldn’t be _talking_ to him like two friends catching up on each other.

It was wrong. Amanda didn’t understand. It didn’t make any sense, either. They hated each other. For a long time. He wanted her gone—left her for dead. He’d tried to kill her. _Three_ fucking times. He would’ve never wanted her back unless—unless…

Then she understood.

_Of course._

God, she had become slow, the tolls of the last days and _Rick_ had turned her to a moron. She was usually much quicker than this!

Shaking her head, she started laughing. “Oh, this is good,” she sneered between her mocking laughter. “You lost control, didn’t you?” she taunted. “Of course you did. No one likes cop killers, right?”

Gorman gave her a sick smile, still not taken aback, “Well, remember what Dawn always used to say?” he asked her in return. “It’s not easy to make everyone happy.” He heaved another sigh, but this time it was a fake one. “You must see the glares McGinley keeps throwing at me. You’d expect him to realize by now it was already a lost cause, but you know him—was still hoping to get into your pants one day.”

She sent him a glare, even though the words must be true. McGinley had been trying that for a long, long time—even before the turn—never losing hope. He was the first one Lamson had managed to convince to come with them to the warehouse.

All of it was still so bizarre, so _wrong_ Amanda didn’t even know what to think… “So, you want me back,” she mused out. “To make things run smoothly again?” she questioned and noticed with horror that she sounded…a bit…intrigued? No. No!

She would never—ever go back to Grady!

_Never!_

Gorman shrugged. “What we _all_ caused has created even deeper fractions, Shepherd. You see our dilemma is still the same. I guess I can…kill McGinley and all the rest, but then we’d need to do all the shit all by ourselves.” He gestured at their other colleagues with his head, standing on Rick’s other side. “Not pragmatic—” Gorman went on. “We have to find a common ground. So, yeah, I want you back. We could do it together. You know we _could_. We put everything back together the way it’s supposed to be.”

Amanda shook her head. “It didn’t work the first time, Gorman,” she said, all pretenses falling, her voice deadly serious. “You only got worse and worse. Why should it work this time?”

“Because we’ve all changed, haven’t we?” he replied in the same seriousness she had. “I know I—lost my way, but so have you. It’s time we make a fresh start.” He paused. “I won, Amanda, I _won_. But it didn’t finish it. I understand this isn’t the way.” He took a step to her closer. “I just could’ve killed you two, take the boy and girl.” He pointed at her where Beth and Carl were standing. “and be done with it, but I _didn’t_. Because I want you back.”

She shook her head again. He’d hurt people. Killed people. Raped Joan. Killed Lamson and Tyreese. Even though she could…trust his reasons, they couldn’t forget the past. They—they couldn’t live together. Amanda learned that lesson behind a fence when the blade fell on Dr. Greene’s neck. “We can’t live together,” she whispered. “It doesn’t work this way.”

“Says who?” but Gorman said in return, taking another step closer. “ _We_ decide now how it works. No one else!” He gave her a careful look, wandering his eyes all over her. “Look at yourself!” Taking another step toward her, he dropped his voice into a whisper. “Are you going to do what? Wander in the woods like vagabonds?” he continued, pressing further. “I know you—” He made a vague gesture with his head around the woods. “This is _not_ you. You must be hating every _second_ of this.”

The words angered her even further… She…was… She was fucking hating it, but… “You _don’t_ know me—” she rasped low in her throat.

He never had. Each year he’d placed bets on when she would turn dirty, and each time Amanda had made him lose. He didn’t know her. He never did.

“Don’t I?” Gorman replied. “Before the turn, when Lamson wanted to buy you a pet for your birthday, wanted to give you a dog—something to make you care for… I said, man, are you trying to give our Ice Queen an episode! Buy her a fish, a turtle, or something.” He laughed, shaking his head. Her eyes started burning, talking like this…in front of everyone… mocking her…making fun of her like this… “He bought you a goldfish then.”

“You’re an asshole, Gorman—" she spat with venom.

“So are you, Shepherd—” he shot back with a shrug. “And you’ve never denied it before.”

She looked him in the eyes. “I’ve changed.” As soon as the words left her lips, Amanda realized it was the truth. _I guess getting shot at makes you do that—reconsider your life choices._ She—she’d almost died—twice. It changed things. It changed _her_.

Her self-realization was no moment of divinity, though. It—it was just another fact. Like evolution—like she’d evolved, not a light switch, but becoming … something else. She hoped it was for the better.

“Leave her alone—” Suddenly Rick spoke in a roughened voice, drawing up to his feet, ignoring the gun pointed at his head. Gorman let him this time as he was still looking at her. “She said no,” Rick rasped.

Gorman turned to look at Rick. “Did she?” he asked. “I didn’t hear her say no…” He twisted back to her. “Did I, Mandy—?”

Rick fixed him with a cold look, but it was Rick who replied. “She did,” he stated firmly. “You just didn’t hear it.” He paused, his eyes cutting over to her for a split second. “And if you thought even for a second that she would really come back with you, you’ve _never_ ever known her at all.”

His words made her chest swell so inappropriately in their current situation, but Amanda still couldn’t help it. A small, faint smile broke her lips as she almost pulled him against her and kissed him madly… Instead, she only smiled a bit further. “No, he hasn’t—” she said, shaking her head. “He used to place bets to see when I’d turn dirty, and each time he lost—” She turned to the bastard. “Didn’t you, Johnny?”

Gorman shot her a glare. “ _Perhaps_ I really should just kill you two and take the kids,” he spat back, his hand going to his hip.

Amanda always had been faster than him. She raised her gun. “I suggest _not_ —” she countered his threat, pointing the gun at his head as he did the same to her.

Trying to keep herself calm, Amanda raised her voice so the others could hear her, as well. “We take each other out, then Rick makes the rest of you regret ever crossing your paths with him,” she bluffed, her stomach twisting, and it was a very good thing that Rick really _looked_ like a proper sonofabitch who would do such a thing even with all guns pointing at him. “You don’t have any idea what he’s capable of. You _just_ heard the story. I _saw_ it. I’m warning you.” She stressed out, raising her voice even higher. “You better go now.”

Rick just stood there and looked at them, and Amanda didn’t need to add anything.

“You’ll regret this—” Gorman told her, giving her one last look.

Amanda shook her head. “No, I won’t.”

The bastard turned on his heel, and then they started walking away. For a moment or so, she thought of killing him, shooting him in the back. She really wanted to do it, but the next second, she lowered the gun again.

She heaved deeply, not quite understanding what happened—how it ended—and almost waited for them to return and started shooting… She looked at Rick who had his gun out, too, levelled at them, but soon her former colleagues vanished through the trees.

Amanda then started trembling—her whole body. Her sight grayed out, she couldn’t even stop the trembles running over her, and her legs buckled. For a second, she feared she was going to collapse, but Rick caught her around her waist before she dropped to her knees.

“Carl—” he called out to the teenager, twisting aside as he secured her tightly at his side. He began walking her back to the tree. “Carl—bring water—”

Water… She was thirsty—and hungry… That was it.

God!

Had this—had this just happened?

It felt like whatever strength that had kept her on her feet intact for the last two days had suddenly vaporized off her. She felt mushy, her legs wobbling, she couldn’t even walk properly… Rick eased her down against the tree as Carl gave her water. It was a dirty bottle they had found somewhere, she guessed, but she didn’t question it anymore… that was her life… the life she had chosen…accepted.

She closed her eyes, trying to take the bottle with trembling hands. Rick held her shaking her hands to bring the bottle toward her lips. “Amanda—are you okay?” she heard him ask.

She took a sip in the darkness, felt the wetness over her paper dry tongue. “I don’t know—” she murmured, resting her head back against the tree. “Ask me the next time.”

# # #

For the next two hours, her head in Beth’s lap, still bundled in his jacket, Amanda slept.

Rick knew it was more _passing out_ than sleep as her exhausted, sleep-deprived body finally gave in after her bizarre confrontation with that bastard, and without knowing what else to do, Rick let her.

He turned aside and checked on Carl, who was walking with Judith in his arms as his baby girl had gotten upset again, even though she wasn’t hungry anymore. After the men had left, Rick had made a mash with pecans they’d gathered, using berries, fruits, and acorns smash Beth had prepared and fed the girl. He’d also rationed it between Mika, Beth, and Carl, saving for Amanda, leaving himself out. He knew they couldn’t keep on like this, but for now, there was little else he could do.

Amanda needed to rest, to calm down from the encounter, and there was the issue with Daryl. He hoped his tracker friend would have found them by now. It was getting closer to noon, but so far no one had come. Rick didn’t want to think the worst, but he knew he had to ready himself for it, too.

He shook off the thought. His eyes moved to Amanda. His insides twisted again, thinking of what would’ve happened this morning if she didn’t manage to send the men away. The way she used his…reputation made him even angrier with himself, as if…as if he failed them even worse, again, couldn’t protect them, getting caught like an idiot in the woods. He was preoccupied, his guard down, thoughts jumbled in his mind.

Thoughts regarding the woman who was sleeping a few feet away from him. Dread had found him when he’d understood the cops were indeed those bastards. Rick had realized as soon as he saw the uniforms, but the confirmation still came like a blow, another failure—leaving Amanda to deal with it that way.

The man’s words filled him with anger, the way he taunted her, making fun of her, calling her Ice Queen, or the way he thought she would’ve _really_ returned to Grady… _leave_ them… leave him… Amanda was having a harder time than any of them, and things between them. There was that look in her eyes, a tiredness and something else…like a yearning when he caught her staring at the cops’ uniforms, and for a second Rick felt dread…then she said…

_I’ve changed._

The bastard's mocking words echoed in him too— _Something to make you care for._

But Rick had realized then. She hadn’t changed. She only showed her true colors, let herself…let herself care. She had always been this woman, a caring person who was trying to do her best even in the worst conditions.

They’d _never_ understood her, and it broke his heart, but also made him furious, the bastard _even_ thinking her capable of accepting his offer, accepting to go back to that place after all the things he’d done just because it would've been easier that way.

No. Amanda wanted things to be simple, not _easy_.

Suddenly the urge to go and make her lay on _his_ lap was so strong Rick had to turn his eyes down to the ground so he couldn’t see her like that. He…he wanted her, but it wasn’t rushing desire anymore like last night, making him feel everything so vibrant…so _alive_. No, it was a gentle warmness, kind and quiet. He wanted to crawl behind her silently, wrap his arms around her as she lay on her side, secure her tightly against his chest like he used to do to Lori—

The thought hit him like a ton of bricks. He sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly feeling ashamed and furious at himself—thinking like this… He—he…what kind of a bastard was he—thinking like _this_ even now?

He—he had to get his shit together. He was no use to _anyone_ like this. They’d flirted with another disaster this morning, almost gotten their asses whooped because Rick had fucked up again, let his guard down, and got captured.

First, he needed to get them to safety. There was nothing more important than that, then…then…he—he would ask her again.

She—she’d told him so…hadn’t said _no_.

He shook his head. Later. It wasn’t time for this.

They needed to decide what to do next. They couldn’t sit and wait any longer. They needed to act, not just react to things happening to them. That never boded well. So, slowly, he lifted his head up and approached Amanda and Beth.

She had to wake up. He didn’t want to do that. He wanted to give her time to recuperate, pull herself back together, ease her, but there was no time.

 _There’s no time_ …his words echoed over the static, but he pushed it away, as well. That—that had to wait. Though the suspicion was already there, echoing back… _you know what happened the last time you waited._

Inwardly, Rick shook his head.

No. It—it had to wait. They—they couldn’t do it—not now—not when things were like this. They had to wait.

Clearing his head, silencing the thoughts that were contradicting each other, Rick knelt in front of Beth’s knees. He grasped Amanda’s shoulder lightly. Even in sleep, her face had a guarded expression, a pinch across her brows, a tightness around her lips as if she knew even in sleep, she couldn’t let her guard down.

It pained him further seeing her like this, the bitter taste of failure finding him again, failing all of them…but Rick pushed it away, as well. He was no use to anyone like this. They needed him.

_You don’t have any idea what he’s capable of. You just heard the story. I saw it._

Was that how she really felt about him, Rick wondered, or just words to make her bluff more threatening to scare the men away? He didn’t know, he couldn’t be sure, but somewhere deep in his chest, he wished they were true, that Amanda really felt like that. Trusted him like that to keep them safe.

Rick gave her a gentle shake as Carl also got closer, realizing he was finally making a move. His teenage son had been giving them fleeting looks since Amanda had quasi passed out, closing her eyes against the tree. Rick knew there were still questions and suspicions in his son’s eyes—thoughts…but they were going to have to wait, too.

Especially until he got things clear with Amanda. He didn’t want to make things harder with Carl. If…if they decided not to—pursue anything, but let things die. He—he didn’t want to believe it, there was that look in her eyes when Rick had confronted the bastard, but knowing Amanda and her…issues with wanting things to be simple, Rick was also aware that was still a possibility. All in honesty, he still didn’t know if he was ready for a relationship, either. Amanda—she…she deserved more…better than him.

Later… he told himself… It was a discussion for later. Not for now.

He gave her shoulder another shake, this time a bit harder. She made out a low throaty groan, turning her head toward him, her brows knitting further…and Rick forced himself not to stare at her—imaging how she would make such a groan in another way—

He stopped himself.

That wasn’t a good thing to think now, too… No.

“Amanda—” he called out to her, keeping his voice calm and gentle. “Amanda—wake up.”

With another soft throaty moan, blinking her eyes, she opened her eyes. “Wh—what?” she groaned out and looked at him. Rick saw confusion in the depths of her green eyes. “What happened?” she murmured huskily, moving her eyes from his up to Beth’s. “Beth…?”

The young girl gave her a kind smile. “You fell asleep—"

A frown tightened her brows further. “Did I?”

Beth nodded. Amanda shook her head and rubbed a hand over her temples. Rick gave her a critical look. “Headache?” he asked.

Closing her eyes, she nodded. “Yeah.” She put a hand down on the ground and started pushing herself upward.

Rick swept his arms around her shoulders and helped her as she settled herself against the tree. “You need to drink more water and eat—” he spoke gently and turned aside to Carl, pulling a step back. “Carl, can you bring the mash we spared for Amanda?”

Amanda looked at them. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“Two hours or so—” Rick replied. “How ya feeling now?”

She gave a little shrug. “Better, I guess,” Her eyes found his. “You should’ve woken me earlier.”

He gave her a head shake, turning to check Carl. “You needed sleep.”

She shook her head, but before she could say anything else, Beth cut in. “I can’t believe they left like that!” the teenage girl whispered. “I—I got so scared all hell would break lose again.”

Amanda let out a low, bitter snort. “You tell me. I still can’t believe what happened.”

“It happened,” Rick started, trying to keep his voice gentle but firm. They—they had to move on now. “We need to talk about what we’re going to do,” he continued as Carl came back, bringing the mash to Amanda, Judith still in his arms.

Amanda took the leaf-plate they’d covered the mash with and gave a look at Judith. “She ate?” she questioned.

Carl nodded. “Yeah. Dad fed her.”

“Mika?” she questioned further, her eyes going over to the ten year old who was sitting three steps away from them.

Beth nodded. Amanda brought the leaf over her nose then and sniffed. “Smells…nice,” she remarked slowly. “What’s in it?”

“Pecans, acorn smash, berries, figs, and water.”

“Well, sounds…healthy,” she commented, looking at it with tight lips, but didn’t say anything else.

Rick remembered the bastard’s remark; _You must be hating every second of it._ “Daryl hasn’t come yet?” she asked, her head still bowed as she pushed her forefinger inside the mash. She brought it to her lips and touched the mash at her fingertip with her tongue to taste it.

Rick forced himself not to look at it—really _did_ … the way the tip of her tongue touched the ground and mashed nuts and berries…

Rick almost swallowed, but forced himself to push it down… It was just a gesture—a little gesture—tiniest second—nothing more…nothing _more_ … “Uh. No.”

The tip of her tongue stayed on the food for a split second, then she put it inside her mouth, sucking her finger. She lifted her head. “This is actually not bad—” she said, dipping her forefinger in the mash again, wandering her gaze between them. “What kind of berries are those?”

“Barberries,” Carl answered. “That’s what it’s sweet and a little tart. I found them.” He paused. “Before they found us.”

Her finger stopped. “Ah.”

She gulped, bowing her head. “I—I’m sorry—” she mumbled next.

“Why?” Carl asked, giving her a look, pushing Judith up in his arms. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Lifting her head, Amanda gave Carl a look, then _nodded_. “Yeah, you’re right. Not my fault—” she admitted as Rick narrowed his eyes a bit. “Yet you know—you feel responsible.” She took another dip around the leaf with her finger and quickly brought it toward her lips. “So…what’re we gonna do?” she asked, swallowing her food.

“We can’t stay here for another night,” Rick stated the obvious. “We need to find supplies. Get a roof over our head.”

“Yeah…” she agreed. “We—we return to the town we stayed in last night?” she asked, diving her finger again in the mash. “We could arrive by sunset, stay in a house, then start looking for others the next morning at the tracks.” She paused, her voice lowering further. “That’s where Daryl was going. Perhaps we can find him there.”

Rick nodded. “Yeah—” he said. “I guess that’s the best. We—we’ll leave him a sign. Let him know we were here in case—”

She gave him another nod in agreement, then stopped before she brought her finger to her lips again and looked at it. Then she shook her head. “No… Got a better idea—” She lifted her head up at him. “But we need a rotter again.”

# # #

“Ya okay, right?” Rick asked, crouched over the rotter’s body as he gave her a careful look. “You can stay with Beth if you’re not,” he continued, holding the knife over the dead thing’s decaying torso. “I got this.”

Amanda shook her head. “No. I’m good—” she lied. She wasn’t good, and another dissection of a rotter was the last thing she needed right now, but she had already _almost_ passed out in front of them like a trembling sissy, so she wasn’t going to admit it now. “Go on.”

Nodding, Rick turned to the rotter without another word.

They were alone now. Carl had taken watch, and Beth had taken the kids away, so they wouldn’t see this again. All of them were still within their line of sight, though, as neither she nor Rick was willing to let them out of their sight even for a second.

Nope.

What happened this morning was enough—for a lifetime.

She couldn’t still believe it had ended like this, but perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised. Gorman was always a coward, a weakling who always avoided any direct conflict as much as Amanda. The notion itself made her lips turn down, having anything in common with that bastard, but it was the truth, too. The asshole hadn’t lied when he said Lamson and she had started this.

She pushed the sonofabitch out of her mind. Like Rick had said, he wasn’t important. They—they _were_ important. She looked down at the rotter, remembering Daryl. “Do—do you think he—he didn’t make it?” She didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t want…Daryl was a good man, accepting to go out to look for the others.

Rick’s hands halted over the rotter’s belly, then he shook his head. “Daryl’s a tough guy,” he remarked.

Amanda nodded. The roughish hunter had an air that nothing, nothing, would ever stop him. If he died—if someone else died because of her plans again, Amanda stopped herself. She didn’t want to think that. She hadn’t forced anyone, yes, the man had accepted it. Like she’d told Carl, it wouldn’t have been her fault, but still, she _felt_ responsible.

_I’ve changed._

She guessed that was another side effect. Feeling responsible, the very thing she’d always run away from. _Something to make you care for. Ice Queen._ The slimeball bastard’s words played in her mind, and Amanda almost let out a frustrated grunt.

The way he’d mocked her made her furious, but it was nothing next to knowing the man was telling the truth; that she might’ve lost her shit if Lamson bought her a dog.

Dogs—dogs needed too much care… like babies. You needed to take them out every morning and night, had to play with them, feed them, needed to bring them to pet shops to groom their fur, and vets to make sure they were okay. Hell, it really sounded like having a baby…

She let out a sigh, and from where he was gutting the rotter, Rick darted her a glance. “I—I’m sorry for this morning, Amanda—” he told her softly.

Amanda wanted to sigh again, but settled on a head shake. “It wasn’t your fault, either, Rick.”

Rick nodded. “Yes, but I feel responsible, too,” he responded to her with her own words, his eyes skipping to hers again.

She exhaled this time. “I know.” She shook her head again. “Guess we’re both suckers, huh?” she asked with a small smile, rueful and tired, and he reflected it back to her.

“Yeah.”

Something clawed at her throat, making her throat tighten. “You know, he…he was right—partly… I’m—uh—I’m hating every second of _this_ ,” she murmured, looking at the corpse in front of their feet.

Rick turned to the rotter and pushed his right hand through the cut he’d made—getting blood and other stuff to use as paint before he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it—” he told her in return, letting a sigh out. “No one _likes_ this, believe me.”

She made out a little light laugh. “Yeah…there’s that too…” she murmured, then paused…

Then words left her mouth out of thin air, much like how it always happened with him. “Rick—uh—what you said—” she said with a low voice. “About me—him not knowing me one bit if he thought even for a second I would’ve gone with him,” she clarified, feeling the heat rushing through her again, but she had to tell him—she…wanted to tell him…

She wanted him to know how much it meant to her hearing it, how it made her chest swell… though she couldn’t seem to find the proper words. She stopped, looking at him in silence before she bowed her head and uttered what came to her mind first. “I—I liked hearing it.” She paused for a second, then lifted her head again. “It meant a lot.”

Then again, she was rewarded with another patented Rick Grime look, keen inquisitive eyes looking at you, measuring you, assessing you carefully, but this time Amanda didn’t turn her gaze away. She had no idea what she was doing or why she was doing it—aside from knowing she shouldn’t be doing it…

Yet she still wasn’t going to stop doing it… “Amanda—” he called out to her after the brief pause, his voice lowered a tone down into a hoarse rasp. “I—when we find a place, I want to ask you again,” he said, and her heart started beating faster in her chest. Her stomach twisting, Amanda felt her palms sweating. She swallowed. “Can I?” Rick asked softly. “Can I ask you again?”

She bobbed her head quickly, heat rising in her. “You can—” she said because she found herself wanting him to do it… She—she didn’t want to wait. _Life’s too short_ , her words to Beth echoed in her mind.

And she wanted to see. Wanted to see how much she’d…changed. And there was also that attraction thing between them. She saw how Rick was eyeing her when she ate. They—they really had to do something about it before it became their downfall. So she continued, “But I don’t think you should wait.” She paused to swallow. “In fact, I—I think we need to do…something now.”

Rick shook his head, his eyes skipping at the dead body. “No. This is not a good time, Amanda.”

She shrugged and told him honestly what she felt. “Well, I think we should at least have sex.”

—and Rick stared…

# # #

“What?”

“Y-you heard me--” she said and cleared her throat before continuing, trying to keep herself calm, but it was easier said than done. “We—we need to have sex, Rick…” she remarked and paused a little, trying to sort through her distorted thoughts to explain.

“We’ve become much too distracted,” she started. “I saw how you looked at me today while I ate. And last night…you know what happened last night. We almost had sex in front of two teenagers, a kid, and a baby.” She paused again, keeping Beth’s knowledge to herself. “Sometimes… sometimes not having sex complicates things, too,” she reasoned further. “This tension between us… it makes things harder for us. And—uh—” she breathed out, failing to keep herself calm, turning her eyes away this time... “I—uh—kinda missed sex, too… So…”

When she turned her eyes back to him, she saw him looking at her with a smile, his attention completely on her. “You—you thought all about this—thoroughly, didn’t you?”

“Well—I—uh—I had to convince _myself_ first—” she said with a shrug. “And I’m not easily convinced.”

He shook his head. “I _know_.”

Her eyes find his again. “So—what do you say?”

“I’m—kinda blown away right now, Amanda—”

“You don’t want it?” she asked with a frown, interrupting him.

He shook his head, this time exasperatedly. “Of course, I want it. I _thought_ I made it clear.”

“So what’s the problem?” She pressed further before she paused. “You—you already must know what my answer is gonna be—” she told him with a narrow eyed look. “Don’t play clueless.”

Another head shake— “It’s not that—"

She raised her hands up in the air a little. “Then what’s it?"

He gestured with his head. “How?” he asked her. “How are we gonna do it, Amanda?” His eyes stared at her. “Do—do you want us to leave the kids _alone_ to have sex?”

Ah… “I—” She shook her head, tucking one side of her hair back over her ear, and the gesture…felt…strange… “I—I haven’t thought of…logistics yet.”

Rick nodded. “I know. We—we’re gonna wait until we find others again,” he told her. “Then—then we’ll talk about it.”

She exhaled and agreed. “’Kay.”

He pushed to his feet, holding his bloodied hand in front of him in the air. “So—what do we leave for him?” he asked, completely changing the topic from…sex.

Amanda let him. Perhaps…she’d been just stupid. But she’d felt they needed to do it. She didn’t want to wait. It really had been a while, too, and—and she really wanted to see how much…she changed.

Goddammit! She really wanted to have sex with him. Not only fuck. Perhaps…even sleep…? A sort of relationship?

She had no idea what she exactly wanted, but the fact was that she could hardly find out if she didn’t…try. And she wanted—she wanted to find out…wanted to _see_ …

Granted they couldn’t _date_ or anything, and there was still Carl—hell—they didn’t even seem to have sex even if they _decided_ , but…but… She gave herself a mental head shake and shrugged. “Uh—go to the tracks?” she suggested.

Well, that was where they were going at least.

Rick nodded and started getting closer toward the tree she’d been sleeping an hour ago. Then Carl’s shout echoed in the air.

“DAD!” the teenager called out. “Dad! It’s Daryl. He’s come back!” There was a pause, then another exclamation— “Oh my god! He’s found others!”

They both spun on their heels at the same time—and Amanda stared… Her eyes started watering, then suddenly tears broke…

She ran forward as her tears streamed over her cheeks, “JOAN!” she cried out, “JOAN!”

With open arms, Amanda hugged her friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, Daryl is back with Joan and others...? AND, okay, lemme announce here the next chapter Rick and Amanda WILL have some quality time together without interruption! FINALLY. I kept giggling at myself writing them discussing the logistics of having sex in the woods, with no one else around to watch the kids as Amanda reasons with him why they should have sex *now*. He he, thank god Daryl is back, so they could sneak away now :D
> 
> BUT it was the time--I wanted Gorman made them to move the next step, accepting a few things, especially Amanda's confession that she'd changed, and I also didn't want it to end in a bloodshed as Gorman is also a coward.
> 
> The theme of *becoming something else* is actually what I'm playing both with Amanda and Rick--as they're both *becoming*--Amanda learning how to accept to care--and Rick embracing his own violent nature, and Lori's death as well. It's also inspired by a Batman line, "I'm not hiding, I'm becoming."
> 
> Let me know what you think, I'm *dying* to hear it:D


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, let's fasten the belts-this's gonna be a long one-my longest chapter so far-and BEHOLD-I DID it. I wrote a full explicit sex scene.
> 
> I never thought this day would've come-but well, the narrative, and story, and both Rick and Amanda's mental state were needing it. I seriously hope it's not something pornographic-I really don't like writing long sex scenes for the sake of writing sex-but it serves a purpose here with a lot of real dialogue as well-and I also tried to keep it as tactful as possible-not keep bumbling off dirty talking, uh-ohs and some other names of some body parts... Hope it's tasteful, I tried.

**XXXI.**

For a little while, they were all happy. Rick saw it over their despair-stricken faces while he watched them welcoming each other. Daryl put a hand on Carl’s shoulder as his son smiled big at the hunter in return. Beth came to hug Amanda and the dark curly haired nurse. Rick saw the tall, lanky boy hurriedly limped to join them as well in the embrace.

They all looked happy, and for a second or so, Rick believed they were going to be okay. He looked at his hand, seeing the blood drying over his skin. Despite his words to Amanda, he’d been preparing himself for the death of another of his family, the man who Rick had come to think of as a brother, the man who always watched his back even when Rick gave up…himself.

He might’ve not sprinted and hugged Daryl as fiercely as Amanda did to her friend, but the relief of seeing Daryl again came to him like a giant wave, made it easier to breathe. They were getting back. All of them were getting back.

Rick started walking toward them, too, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He kept his hand up, keeping the dark blood away from himself. He stopped in front of them and put his clean hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “Welcome back—” he told the other man, “Best timing.” He paused. “We—we were about to leave.”

Daryl nodded simply as Carl gave his blood covered hand a look. “We were going to leave you a message,” his son told the hunter, his tone having an assurance in it. “Dad was doing it before we left.”

Daryl nodded again without a word, his blue eyes skipping to Rick’s hand. “We thought to look for the tracks, start looking for you too,” Rick explained. Daryl stayed silent. Rick half expected him to question them to learn what happened to _them_ , but Daryl didn’t do it. “What happened?” Rick asked then when Daryl didn’t speak. “How did you find them?” he questioned further. “Did you see others?”

Daryl gave him a flittering look. “We need to talk.”

Rick almost let out a sigh. He’d figured out that much. He wondered what’d happened on their side, why the other man came this late, but that had to wait. “Yeah,” Rick concurred. “but I want to leave this place as soon as possible.” He gestured with his head. “Things happened here, too.”

Daryl’s eyes wandered around for a second. “Yeah, seems like. What happened, man?” the hunter roughed out finally. “The dead?”

Rick gave a half nod back. “And the living, too. I’m gonna explain on the road.” He paused. “Might as well be the best you didn’t return this morning,” he remarked in careful consideration.

When he came to think of it, it was really _good_ they hadn’t come back earlier. Rick’s eyes darted toward Beth and Amanda who were standing a few steps away from the nurse now, whispering to each other fiercely. He thought how that bastard would’ve reacted if he saw his former girlfriend together with them.

The possibilities churned his stomach, and Rick really felt glad. Gorman had claimed he came for Amanda, but something still told him if he’d seen Joan here this morning, things would’ve turned very ugly.

Which was another reason why they had to leave—like now. The dirty cops seemed like they had really left for good, but Rick wasn’t taking any chances.

“We gotta go,” he said, returning his look back at Daryl. “We gotta find a place to pass the night. We can’t stay another night open in the woods like this. Judy’s taking it hard.”

With three more joined to their ranks, their numbers were better now.

With the last thought, he mentally halted, as if synapses in his brain suddenly stopped sending off chemical signals to the other nerves, and his eyes found Amanda again but this time for different reasons. Their conversation from a few minutes earlier came back to him… _We’re gonna wait until we find others… Then we’ll talk about it._

They—they’d found others, or others had found them. It meant that should they talk about it? Do it?

Have sex?

The prospect excited him as much as it worried him. Amanda had reasoned it in the simplest ways, laying down her case, basically stating that they needed to get it out of their system.

Rick—he—uh—he could see the sense behind her words. They were distracted. _He_ was way too distracted, although he didn’t know if _that_ would make it better. The tension Amanda had mentioned always was there between them, from the start. They’d already covered the issue when they’d talked first about…their thing. She’d stated they could never be friends, and she’d been right. But now acting on it when things were still this…unclear between them? Rick didn’t know. It didn’t feel like a good idea.

The…logistics were problematic even if they really decided to do it, but since it was no longer an issue as drastic as before with Daryl’s return, Rick…wondered what Amanda would want further.

What _he_ would want himself further?

Would they really go and have sex just like how it’d almost happened last night? It—it was a spur of the moment. They’d gotten carried away. But deciding to act on their mutual attraction, taking that step was different. Something they couldn’t have risked before.

He wanted it, of course he did. Hell, he even started feeling himself stirring inside his jeans. He wanted her, wanted to see her naked, wanted to bury himself in her depths, wanted to stroke himself in her folds as deep as possible, pounding in her as fast as possible, make her squirm under him, make her utter those moans. He wanted to hear those hoarse throaty purrs. Even thinking of them was making something primal in him clawing at his edges.

God!

And he…he’d missed sex, _too_ … He fucking missed it, too. It’s been a _long_ _time._ Too long since the last time he lost himself in that carnal frenzy, the whole world shrinking as if it was sucked into a singularity, everything else fading in the background, everything but the _moment_. You drove yourself up over a cliff, to reach out to take what just lay out of your grasp, desire and lust ringing in your eardrums, desire to take it; the peak, then the fall itself, the moment of disintegration, shattering into pieces, then you came back.

God! He really missed sex. The satisfaction and respite it brought, making you feel… _alive_ and satiated. The prospect of living that moment with Amanda… It was partly scary, partly rousing— _very_ rousing, making him stir, making him…

God!

He wondered how _long_ he would last when they had sex—then he stopped…

 _When_.

Not an if. So, he’d really decided? Was he going to have sex with her? Scratch an itch, fulfill a desire, claiming selfishly whatever they could reach for…

The thought disturbed him too as much as it aroused him, despite knowing Amanda was right. Denying the attraction between them was making everything harder. So much harder. But whatever was between them wasn’t just an attraction. It wasn’t just scratching an itch. He _wasn’t_ just horny. He hadn’t risked his life, hadn’t walked in front of a gun for her only because he wanted her…very, very badly.

They—they should—they needed time. They had to work through it, figure it out, not just sneak away to fuck each other senseless under a tree on a bed of fallen leaves…

He closed his eyes, trying to hold on a sharp breath as images, very vivid, very carnal images assaulted him at the last thought. Not a good thing to think now, too, definitely not. His eyes opening a second after, he steeled his mind, even though his eyes skipped to her again for a fraction of a second. He couldn’t help himself.

Rick saw her doing the same. Her look was speculative, the green eyes were glinting with that spark… It wasn’t as dark as before when she was aroused, not a sharp emerald, but nevertheless, the glint was there. Rick forced himself to return his attention to Daryl, berating himself again for distractions. Just so he did it, he caught Carl giving him another one of those looks. His son’s eyes wandered between him and the girls, his focus on Amanda.

God!

He needed to pull his shit back together. They couldn’t tolerate this kind of distraction when they were out in the woods. None of them could. _We’ve become_ _too_ _distracted,_ her words echoed in the depth of his mind again. Rick almost groaned.

“There’s a cabin we passed the night last night,” Daryl told him. Even though the hunter’s eyes were darting between them like Carl’s, Daryl made no comment. “Joan and Noah found it after they left the bus. Joan said the bus got hit in the clash and broke down on the road after they left the prison,” he explained further. “When walkers attacked, they scattered into the woods. I found Joan and Noah’s trails and tracked them. Found them in the cabin,” he went on. “We can pass tonight there. It ain’t nothing good, but still a roof over our heads.”

Rick nodded. He couldn’t ask for anything more right now. “Okay—” He paused, his eyes growing sterner. “But have you found others’ trails?”

With a look, Daryl shook his head. “Nah—found something even better,” the tracker replied. “Found _where_ they’re goin’ to.” He gave Rick another fleeting look and declared, “You weren’t the only one who thought to leave a message behind.”

# # #

Amanda didn’t know if it was sheer blind luck or a higher purpose that they finally made them find each other again, but she didn’t care. No, she did not.

Whether it was because of a carefully preordained event of a divine meaning, something like a destiny or was simply just a coincidence, Amanda _didn’t_ fucking care. They were here. Joan…Noah… The people who had saved her, saved _them_ from Grady when Amanda had so spectacularly failed… They were here. They…they hadn’t died.

It never hurt to keep a little bit of faith, she reminded herself, as her tears slid over her cheeks. She laughed, shaking her head. “God, I’m a mess—” She pulled herself out of the tangled limbs of their embrace, running a hand across her cheek. Beth laughed along with her, sounding happy. Joan and Noah accompanied… and that was how she always wanted to hear them… her friends… her family?

She didn’t know, but she felt too tired to question it… She just wanted all of them in her life. She wanted to sing the Parting Glass with Beth and Maggie. She wanted to share talks with Joan. She wanted Daryl to teach her the woods. She wanted Judith to pull her hair. She wanted to play with the baby girl, wanted to keep her in her arms, and soothe her into sleep. She wanted to help Carl—wanted Rick—

Well, she still didn’t have a clear idea what she actually wanted to do with Rick, apart from of course knowing she wanted to _do him._ But she was going to find out. She was quite determined on it now. Her eyes cut over to him for a second, and she caught him looking at her as well. There was a sharp edge in his blue eyes, electrical, and Amanda learned to read it all too well since now. He—he was just thinking about it, too. _Them_.

She guessed there was _really_ an unofficial them now. She couldn’t deny it anymore. It _was_ a fact. Denying a fact never brought anyone to anywhere. Rick still might love his wife, but he had feelings for her, too. Amanda had no idea how she was going to deal with that, but well, she guessed it was another thing she needed to find out, too.

She wondered if they would uh— _venture_ out now to do it as they had people. He—he hadn’t objected to the idea, hadn’t said no. He said they couldn’t leave the kids alone, but they would talk about it when they found others. Amanda wondered if that was what he was _particularly_ thinking, not just about them in general.

She felt her stomach make another inappropriate flip-flop as she started getting—nervous. The prospect made her feel excited, but all of sudden, the flip flops tightened into a coil deep in her stomach.

Truly having sex with Rick…

The thought made her almost shudder, made the coil in her stomach twist more and more…even though it’d been her who had suggested it first. She swallowed, trying to calm herself again just as the same time Beth exclaimed beside her.

“Oh my god, Joan—” the teenager uttered breathlessly. “I—I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m so glad you weren’t here before!” Amanda snapped her head toward Beth as Joan and Noah gave her a questioning look, looking lost. “You can’t believe what happened this morning—"

Everything froze a second as Amanda realized what Beth was talking about!

God! She was an idiot!

The biggest idiot ever known to the mankind, letting herself get carried away with Rick and his shenanigans, _again_ …

Gorman! A tremor passed over her body, this time all for different reasons.

What—what the hell would’ve happened if Gorman saw Joan with them this morning. Amanda didn’t even want to think. Gorman had never cared for her. He didn’t _want_ her, not really. He just wanted to bring her back because he _needed_ her, needed her to work for him willingly. But Joan—Joan was different.

Amanda was just business.

Joan was not. Joan was personal.

She trembled again, shaking her head. “We gotta go. I don’t trust that sonofabitch as far as I can throw him,” she rattled off, nodding to Beth, and turned to Joan.

“Gorman—” Amanda said flatly as Joan’s face became whiter as soon as she heard the name. “He found us this morning here—” she explained. “I’ll explain later. We need to go.”

She turned and started walking to Rick and Daryl as they still kept a few feet distance between them, talking to each other. “Rick—” she called out, fastening her pace. The rest of her company followed her example, too, following at her heels. “Rick, we need to go. Gorman—”

Hurriedly walking to her, his leg still having a slight limp, Rick cut her off. “Daryl—he found Maggie and Glenn’s trails,” he announced.

Frozen in her steps, Amanda closed her eyes and did something she hadn’t done for a long time until she sat at the same table with the Greene family. She tucked her chin at her chest and prayed in gratitude.

# # #

“Terminus?” Amanda repeated after Daryl had done explaining in his usual curt, simplistic way. Her brows were knitted, and there was a clear suspicion tinting her voice. “They take whoever arrives in?” 

Joan shrugged. “It’s what the sign says,” she answered, then intoned. _“Sanctuary for all. Those who arrive survive.”_ She paused. “Maggie’s message was written under it.”

Maggie’s message. _Beth. Go to Terminus._

After leaving the cabin this morning, Daryl had still wanted to check the tracks, to see if he could’ve found the other’s trails. There they showed him the sign they were talking about, and the message which Maggie had left her sister, a message in blood.

_Go to Terminus. Where the tracks meet._

It sounded—truthfully, Amanda didn’t know. _Communities_ —like Rick had dubbed them, seldom took people in, especially like that.

Everyone protected what they had now. Their resources, _the_ _y_ were too valuable to take people in randomly. All of them took people in, like they did at Grady or like how Rick and his people used to do in the prison, but they all had a procedure for that. Rick asked his _three_ _questions_ as an admissions test and gave you those measuring looks. At Grady, they only used to take in a certain type of people, people they deemed would be non-threatening and useful. None of them did it like _that_ , by hanging out signs at the tracks.

Rick seemed to have the same reservations, too. His jaw was set in that way, the corner of his lips having that habitual tightness, an inch away from a full grimace as his brows were already drawn together.

“We—we need to look for them—” Beth piped up beside her, where they sat in a circle on the ground, reading their looks—their…suspicions. “We—we _need to._ ”

Rick nodded tightly, pulling Judith in his lap where he crouched down as the baby made a move to crawl away from him again. “We will—” Rick replied firmly, and despite what his face told, Amanda wasn’t surprised at his declaration too.

Despite her suspicion, there was no hesitance in her. She would go. Maggie and Glenn were going there, so there was little else to think about on that. What Terminus might be was almost…inconsequential. “But we need to think smart and act…wisely,” Rick continued. “We don’t know anything about that place.”

“We know Maggie and Glenn are going there,” Amanda returned as Beth nodded hurriedly.

“Yeah—” Daryl nodded as well. “We heard something like that once from a radio in the car returning from a supply run,” he supplied. “Over the static. I can’t be sure, man, but I think it was them, too.”

“Either way, we can’t stay here,” Amanda went on. “We need to go. Like now. I—really would feel better if we put a few hours of distance between us and Gorman.”

And there was that, too.

Rick nodded again, standing up, hoisting Judith up to his chest. “A’right,” he said, looking between all of them, as if weighing his options. Amanda knew how relieved he must be having Daryl back. She just knew it. Amanda was a good partner to cover his back, but with all the kids—and _things_ between them… well, she knew he was relieved to have the hunter back.

Amanda was glad, and damn grateful to him, too, for bringing them back together, so much so that if things were different, she might’ve even kissed the cheek of the hunter. For finding her friends again.

Maggie and Glenn were his friends, who had been with them almost since the beginning. Joan and Noah must mean almost nothing to him, but he still risked his life to find them. Now they just had to find the others. Maggie. She really missed the fierce older Greene, and she really liked the way Beth’s face lit up when she learned her sister was looking for her.

“A’right—” Rick repeated. “We go to the cabin, pass the night there. Then in the morning, we go to the tracks and find the signs, follow them.”

Amanda stood up, too. “Sounds like a plan.” She gave a look around, counting nine people: a baby, one kid, three teenagers, and three grown-ups. They needed to do some splitting up and partnering.

“A’right—” she rounded the word in the same drawl Rick usually did. “Each of us get a rookie,” she told Rick and Daryl, motioning with her head towards the teenagers. “We make a line and put Judy and Mika in. I take them—” she said, reaching out to take Judith from Rick.

For a split second, Rick hesitated, but only for a split second, then left the baby girl in her arms without any word. There was a look though in his eyes again; a sharp, tensed glint—blue eyes getting darkened, but this time Amanda couldn’t even be sure of what.

Feeling the tight ball deep in her stomach again, Amanda ran her eyes away. “Uh—Daryl, you take the point. Take Joan, too. She’s my best experienced rookie. You hold the point.” She turned back to Rick, ignoring her twisted core. She was just nervous…no big deal… “Rick, you take Noah and Carl,” she went on. “You cover our backs. I take Beth. We take Judith and Mika. We walk in between.”

Rick nodded. “Okay. How long does it take to get to the cabin?” he questioned Daryl.

“Five or so hours,” the hunter answered. “They couldn’t go far away from the prison.”

Thank God! Rick gave another brief nod. “A’right, let’s move out,” he ordered in a final instruction. “Keep your eyes open—” He gave her rookies a look. “And don’t break the line.”

The woods were like always…wild, spooky, the dirt path under their feet full of traps under the fallen leaves, the branches and leaves making a whispered song with the wind, and the noises of the wild animals over the foliage. Amanda had realized during her time in the wild, the woods were never completely silent.

The dragging crunches of leaves that rotters made were relatively easier to distinguish than what game animals did as they ran away from them scared. They met scattered rotters, usually lone wanderers, lost in the woods. They saw a small herd, around a dozen, once ahead of them, surrounding a fallen deer and slipped away from them as silent as ghosts.

They traipsed with a moderate pace to keep pace with Mika’s small steps. Judith was…reasonably faring well as she was in close embrace, playing with her hair. Amanda started having fears that Judith had gotten too used to be within people's arms. If they kept this up, they might have problems with putting her down, but that was a problem for later, too. They needed to keep the little angel quiet, make her feel secure, and this was the only way at the moment. She also played with her hair all the way, and Amanda thought perhaps having it loose wasn’t that bad. It kept the baby girl…occupied at least. The thought brought a small smile to her lips, and she bowed her head and placed a chaste brush of a kiss over the baby’s hair… Behind her back, she could feel Rick’s gaze, but she ignored it.

Daryl walked in front of them, alert as always, Joan pacing beside him, her spine straight in the same way. Amanda took turns with Beth to carry the baby girl when she started feeling fatigue in her arms as Mika started making faint sobs beside them. Rick took Mika then, and started carrying the little girl before they finally made their first pause two or so hours later.

Daryl hurriedly went to look for water. Amanda gave Judith to Beth as she was carrying the baby girl for the last hour. She sat down on the ground on a tree root beside Carl and Rick. Joan and Noah took their other side as Beth sat in the middle of their circle with Mika and Judith.

She eyed Daryl’s retreating back as the tracker vanished through the trees, her head heavy with thoughts. If she wasn’t that tired, she might go with the hunter. She _really_ needed to learn how to find a damn creek in the woods…

She turned to Rick as he gave them pecans, figs, and wild grapes he’d picked on the way. “Do you—uh—do you think Daryl would start…uh--a class or something?” she asked, peeling a fig. “when this’s over...”

Because it was going to be over, right?

Perhaps not Terminus, but somewhere else?

A damn roof over their heads, with actual walls, and with actual beds.

Because despite all of her simple self-realizations, Amanda really still didn’t feel like she belonged here. But she _still_ needed to learn.

The opposite was out of the question now. She was going to learn how to track, hunt, find water, and survive in the woods. What happened yesterday was _never_ going to happen again. She was quite determined on that, as well.

Rick looked at her suspiciously. Amanda shrugged, dividing the ripe fruit in half, putting it into her mouth. “Well, you know—how to do it,” she elaborated, gulping it down. “How to survive in the woods… find food and water, how to hunt and track.” She paused, looking at the rest of her fig, and shook her head. “I’m practically useless in the woods like this.” She grimaced at her own weakness. “I don’t like it.”

And when Amanda didn’t like something, she did change it or looked for a way out to get herself out of it. But Rick had started giving her one of those looks, _again_ , so she bowed her head, her stomach tightening and ate the rest of fruit.

“I—I can teach you some, too—” she heard him say and lifted her head. Their eyes found each other again.

Amanda wanted to say no. She wanted to say they couldn’t do the proper teacher-pupil thing when things were like this between them. She wanted to say Daryl was perfect for it; distant, cool as ice, but almost a professional, yet still…caring, too. Amanda wasn’t an idiot, she’d seen it, but somehow, she found herself nodding at Rick. “’Kay. Thanks.”

God, she was the biggest idiot in the whole world.

# # #

Three more hours, half of a dozen or so walkers, and no living, thankfully no living, later, they found the cabin in the woods.

It was just a small cottage. Half of it was already rotted and eaten by wood bugs rains, and wind, but to Rick, it felt like a palace.

It even had a separate bedroom, so he walked inside and put Judith on the low cot, trying not to think who had been sleeping on it besides one of them last night. These thoughts didn’t belong in their world anymore. Judith had fallen asleep, and Rick had taken her from Amanda for the last hour as both Amanda and Beth got too tired of the weight.

Amanda’s lips had made a turn downward, but she didn’t say anything. She’d taken the rear with Carl and Noah then as Rick walked with Beth and Mika in between.

His clothes smelled awful with dark decayed blood, sweat, and dirt. He felt tired as much as any of them, his wounds almost throbbing, and his mind was troubled again.

The way she said she didn’t like how useless she felt in the woods had disturbed him again, the way she accepted her own weakness, and his offer came out of him. He knew he should just let her go with Daryl, but somehow…the notion tightened his chest, disturbing him in another way, and that was what he _didn’t_ like.

Them being alone in the woods, Daryl teaching her stuff. He—he couldn’t be jealous of Daryl, right? Daryl…Daryl was like a brother to him now, and…and Daryl knew about things between him and Amanda. He knew it was different. Daryl was the first one who caught on to it, even when he couldn’t.

_It's different._

Rick recalled their talk at the fence that night and the look Daryl gave him… He shook his head inwardly.

No. Daryl—Daryl was different. He would never cross that line. And Amanda didn’t even look…interested. Rick—he was just…jealous, he guessed. He—he wanted to be the one who would be there for her for everything, protecting her…keeping her safe, teaching her how to stay safe… No. It had to be _him_.

He almost let out a sigh, looking down at the bed, almost surprised at his own vigorous feelings regarding such a simple and logical request. Daryl was the best candidate for it. Perhaps not the best person to teach anyone anything, but the hunter knew his stuff.

 _Still_ Rick wasn’t liking it.

He bowed his head, and his eyes caught the metal glint of his ring, and her voice whispered in his mind—

_I didn’t…like it…_

His fingers played with his ring. Rick almost took it off before he sensed eyes—on his back, looking at him. Twisting aside an inch, he flicked a look behind and saw Carl staring at him.

Dropping his arms at his side, Rick turned to his son. “Dad?” his boy called out. “Can you—can you teach me, too?” but surprising him, Carl asked. “to hunt and track. I want to know.”

Carl—he always had wanted to come with him in the woods to set up snares in the mornings, but Rick had always refused. This time, he nodded. “Okay. We do it.”

They all had to know it.

Not only Amanda or Carl. But Beth, Noah, and Joan. All of them. It was about survival now. They had to prepare them. Not only keep them alive and safe, but also prepare them for what was outside.

No more kid stuff.

Though it still had to wait for another day. Now Rick realized he needed to do something else. He _wanted to_ do something else.

He had run away from this as much as he could. It was pointless now. They—they had to take…the leap now. “Tomorrow I’ll take you. But I’ll go out today with Amanda to set up some snares for the morning,” he informed Carl, keeping his tone gentle yet firm. “I need to talk to her.”

His almost-fifteen year old son gave him a look, long and slow, but nodded. “Okay, dad.”

Rick gave his son a nod in return before he turned and walked away. “Keep your sister safe, son.”

She was in the living area with the others as Daryl and Joan had already started putting up a perimeter outside with the leftover cans and ropes they found inside. Rick stopped in front of Beth and her as they scavenged the little room to find whatever they could.

He waited until she lifted her head and looked at him. “I’m going to set up snares for tomorrow,” he told her simply, his voice placid as he kept looking directly in her eyes, and he knew she _understood_ him. “Do you want to come?”

He saw her almost tremble at his word choice, swallowing low in her throat. Oh yes, Rick knew she did. She _wanted_ to come with him…as badly as him. Rick was going to make sure she was going to, too.

She pulled back on her feet, nodding. “Yeah, sure.”

# # #

The tight ball of nerves set further in her stomach deep down, as Amanda kept walking beside him as they traipsed in the woods.

They had left fifteen or so minutes ago, and there were still two or so hours sunlight left. The days were shortening. She guessed they might start setting up snares as Rick told her inside the cabin, but so far, they’d done nothing.

They—they barely even talked as Rick paced with quick steps beside her in silence, his head bowed.

She had no idea what was going on—Well, she had a fair one, but all in frankness, she didn’t know if _it_ was happening. She expected from him some more—feet dragging. But the way he asked if she’d wanted to come—the look he gave her in the meantime.

God Lord!

A tremor had passed over her hearing the words, and she knew he’d seen that, too. And _yes_ , she wanted to come. God help her, she _really_ wanted. In fact, she was practically begging for it. It’d been _years_. She’d missed it, missed the sensation…the peace, satisfaction, and serenity an orgasm brought onto you, making everything…simple.

She hadn’t been with anyone for a few months even before the turn, and after the turn, it’d just become not an option, not shitting where you ate. But here she was now, walking beside Rick Grimes almost two years after, looking for a place to set up some snares in the woods, a terrible tug throbbing in her insides, her panties wet as a tight ball sat in her stomach.

God, she had never felt this nervous even on her first time. She’d just wanted to be done with it, wanted it to get out of the way. She didn’t even talk about it to the guy. She’d enrolled into the Academy and had no desire to be known as still a virgin. People always made a big deal about it. So, she just had to get it over with .

It hurt like hell, but she just endured it, and afterward, more than anything else she was relieved she was finally free of it. The guy she’d been with didn’t believe what happened afterward at first, then wanted to talk about it, but Amanda refused. She didn’t want to talk about it. In fact, she didn’t even want to talk to _him_ … just changed her direction whenever she saw him in the corridors…

God! Why she kept doing this stuff, making herself remember stuff that would get her only more…nervous.

What was wrong with her seriously?

They were just going to have sex!

If it was why Rick asked for her to come with him… At the moment Amanda just didn’t feel sure. She felt that was what he’d asked, _why_ he’d asked her, to get away after how they’d talked before, how she _herself_ had demanded before… He’d managed the logistics…

They were going to fuck. No big deal. Get it out of their systems.

Only she felt like she was stretched out over a torture rack, strained and tensed, and Rick just kept walking…

God!

“Uh—uh—” Amanda broke the silence. “Do you think those people really mean it? Taking whoever comes in?” she asked because she had to talk about something before she went completely crazy. “Just like that? No procedure or something. It doesn’t make sense.”

Raising his head, Rick sent her a sidelong look. “No—” he agreed, nodding. “No, it doesn’t. But like you said,” he continued. “That’s where Maggie and Glenn are going. So…” he trailed off.

So…. And, with that, they relapsed into another silence.

Well, he wasn’t too chatty today. But then again, Rick never talked much, aside giving directives, of course. The problem was when he started, he didn’t know _when_ to shut up.

Rick was a very guarded man, Amanda had already surmised, of course. He didn’t have Daryl’s “don’t come close or you’ll get hurt” vibes, but he was as avoidant as the other man, as much as _her_ , but when he started getting confrontational, he just didn’t stop. He went all the way down.

In any other time, in any other place, Amanda would’ve really had a interesting time testing his boundaries, pushing his buttons to see how he would snap, how he would react, to determine what cloth he was cut from.

It was a trick she’d learned in foster times to sort out what kind of people she landed with, to learn their motives, what kind of cloth they were made of; why they took them in; for money, for gratitude, for proving something to themselves, or just being good citizens, or something entirely else… She had to determine it to protect herself. After they got stuck in Grady, she’d been doing it with Dawn and Gorman. Possibly, it was what drove Gorman to leave her behind in the woods at the end, but everything was just too _complicated_ with Rick.

That damn word again!

God, what the hell were they doing here?

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she stopped. Seeing her halting her steps, Rick stopped, too. His gaze when he looked at her was…speculative. Amanda shook her head. “Rick, seriously, what are we doing?” she asked because she really couldn’t fathom anymore.

Rick let out a small breath. “I thought I was obvious enough, Amanda,” he replied. He heaved out again. “You wanted us to have sex,” he stated almost calmly, almost. “And—I think you’re right.” For a second, her heart galloped in her throat, and she felt barbed wires coiling further in her stomach. She swallowed. Rick’s brows pinched an inch looking at her. “You still want it, right?”

“Yeah—yeah…” She nodded. “I do but—” But what? What? something screamed in her mind… “I—I—” She swallowed again. “I don’t know. You caught me unawares, I guess. I—I didn’t expect you…get on board this quick.” As she admitted, Amanda realized she really hadn’t. She thought about it, she speculated, she dreamed…but she really didn’t think it was going to happen.

His eyes—the heated, glinting like sapphire eyes, found hers. “Well, I guess I missed sex, as well.” Pausing for a second, he cleared his throat low. “It—it’s been a while for me, too.”

She made a noise too. It—it was so weird. They—they shouldn’t talk like this. Last night…how easy last night was…kissing him, like it was the easiest, simplest thing in the world. Why—why couldn’t they be like that now?

She gulped again. “Could—could we—uh sit and talk a bit?” she asked, even shocking herself as the words left her mouth. Heat started emitting out of her, realizing what she asked— _talking_ … She bowed her head. “It—it feels a bit weird,” she confessed with a small voice.

It felt…weird, strange, tense… everything else than simple and easy.

Rick nodded. Amanda sat on another tree root. “I—I know—” Rick confessed as well. “I—I feel the same, too. But I accepted it.”

She lifted her head. “Accept what?”

“I want you,” he simply said, settling himself beside her.

She stared at him, her brows pulling together. “I—I thought you already accepted that.”

Rick shook his head. “No—that wasn’t what I meant. I want you more than a man wants a woman,” he clarified, and paused, placing his wrists over his knees, and bowed his head. He looked at his hands dangling over his legs. “I—I got jealous of Daryl today.” His voice was low—gentle, yet firm, as he confessed again. “You—you said you wanted him to teach you stuff, and I—I didn’t…like it. Thought it had to be me.”

She bowed her head, nodding, and repeated his words. “I—I understand.” 

She felt that tight ball in her stomach loosen a bit as a warmness spread over her. A small smile appeared over her lips. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t help herself, like most of the things with him. She felt surprised how easy it was smile again suddenly.

She raised her head. “I—I like it.” Rick lifted his head up too, hearing her words. “I like hearing it…”

Then it happened again. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as Rick leaned over her. Amanda leaned forward, too, in response… It was so easy, so easy again—the way their lips met… He caught the back of her neck with his right hand and kissed her slowly. His lips moved over the side of her neck, brushing them over her skin.

They had washed themselves a bit in the cabin, but they both were still filthy, smelly, dirty, and Amanda didn’t care… not a bit… “I—I really want you, Amanda,” Rick whispered to her ear, gathering her up closer to him. “It’s driving me crazy." He wrapped his left arm around her waist and hoisted her up closer over himself. She had no idea what his words truly meant, so she whispered them back the same:

“I—I really want you, too, Rick—”

Then she was on her back. “Good,” he said, pulling back before he sat on his knees looking down at her. She lay on her back over the fallen leaves, her eyes on his… He crossed his right arm over the other side of her, leaning over her further to get closer and placed his hand on the ground next to hers. His other hand’s fingers brushed over the length of her neck and played with her hair, just Judith did… Her smile grew wider as warmness spread over further.

“You’re so beautiful—” Leaning over her further, Rick murmured in the same rough, husky whisper, their eyes glued on each other. “I—I always wanted to tell you that…”

Amanda smiled even bigger at hearing the words, and Rick smiled, too. “Just like that—” His left hand brushed over her face, then he cupped her cheek fully—and—and against her burning flesh Amanda felt it—

The cold touch of the metal.

She flinched back from his touch as if it bit her. Her insides tightened into a ball again, worse than before and she—she wanted to stand up and run—away from him—as fast as she could… Her eyes started pricking. This—this was stupid!

So stupid!

But in the silence, Rick wasn’t even looking at her… He was looking at his hand still on her cheek—barely touching her now… He shook his head.

Then he removed it. As her eyes widened, he took the ring off, and slipped it inside his pocket. “I—I still need to wear it—” he told her, his eyes finding hers again. “Carl—I can’t take it off before I make sure Carl is okay with everything.”

Without understanding what was happening, she found herself nodding again. “Then—” Rick continued. “Then we’ll see.” He held her cheek with his hand again—with his bare hand. “I—I really want to try this, Amanda—”

Her lips quavered, and she nodded, blinking away tears. “I—I want to, too—”

He leaned down toward her more. “Good…” he whispered, their bodies inches apart from each other…his lips almost brushing over hers. “Now—” He titled his eyes up at hers. “I _really_ want to fuck you senseless, Amanda Shepherd—”

She laughed, shaking her head. “If I had a mother, Rick, she would warn me to stay the fuck away from you—”

“Would you listen?” he rasped out against her lips.

She shook her head again. “No.”

“Good—”

She closed her eyes before his lips claimed hers. She opened her mouth at the same time as Rick nibbled her bottom lip…her arms winding over his neck to pull him closer to herself… Then she heard it—a crunch of twigs—

Goddammit!

Not _again!_

“Fuck it!” she heard Rick’s rasping curse, opening her eyes as his head snapped up. Craning her neck aside, Amanda saw two rotters limping toward them eagerly, noticing them under the tree laying on the damp foliage like morons…

Rick drew back an inch and gave her a look. “ _Don’t_ move—” he rasped as he quickly jumped up back on his feet, taking out his knife.

Amanda had never seen anyone taking out rotters _that_ quick. It took less than thirty seconds. She had drawn up too, her knife out, but it was useless. Rick had already swiped his knife clean over the walker and started coming back. She sheathed her knife as he marched to her, his strides quick and powerful as if the last of his reserves were exhausted with the latest interruption. He tucked the knife back in its sheath, stopping in front of her. He frowned up at her— “I _told_ you not to move—”

His voice rasped, and Amanda stared—trying to find something to say, but it wasn’t necessary, too, because the next second, he just pulled her to himself and started kissing her hungrily, his hands already unzipping her pants.

# # #

They—they were going to fuck now. Nothing would stop him again, not even a whole army from hell looking for his head.

He’d had _enough_.

He was going to fuck her, simple as that. He was done with waiting.

He unzipped her pants, thankful of the tactical simplicity of her combat pants. The loose fabric pooled over her ankles around her boots quickly, leaving her only in her panties. He felt glad, too, as he might’ve ripped them off her body with his knife if she wore those skinny jeans she’d borrowed from Beth and Maggie.

Next, he took off his jacket she still wore over her dirty white tee and threw it on the ground. He tugged the hem of the t-shirt to make her raise her arms, so that he would finally see her just how he wanted—naked.

Naked.

He wanted to see her naked, like how he’d dreamed countless times, torturing himself in sleepless nights… He wanted to see her naked on the fallen leaves under this tree, then he was going to fuck her senseless until she begged him to stop.

God, it’d been a while… He couldn’t even remember the last time he wanted someone this madly… if he ever did… Did he? Had he ever wanted to fuck _anyone_ this madly? He didn’t know—he didn’t fucking care, either. He didn’t care about anything right now.

Only Amanda. He only wanted Amanda now. The rest—all the rest were questions for another time. There was that look in her eyes now, too; shock, surprise, and fear—and lust—seeing him like this. He smirked at her as she raised her arms up, looking at him as Rick took the shirt off of her.

He crouched down as she stayed in her sports bra, his side protesting with his sudden agile movements, but Rick didn’t care about his injuries much, either. Everything was dusted under the haze of lust and desire. And Rick—Rick really was done with waiting.

For a second, her eyes widened as he knelt between her feet, his face over her groin. His eyes lifted up to hers, then giving her another smirk, he brushed a light kiss on top of her panties. She trembled at his touch, her hands going to his shoulders to keep her balance. Rick pulled back though and started unfastening her boots.

She—she _needed_ to be naked.

He felt her eyes on him as he first took out the little boot knife she kept tucked inside her right boot. “Rick—uh—rotters—perhaps this—this isn’t a good idea,” she muttered. “Getting naked. We…we might still need to kill rotters.”

Rick shook his head, throwing the knife over to land on his jacket. He turned to the boots, and they had such freaking long ties that made him even angrier… “I keep the clothes, kill rotters—” he said the way she said rotters, and lifting his head up, he gave her another smirk. “You get naked.” He took off her right boot, sliding her foot out of it. “I want you naked.”

“Uh—”

He took off the other boot, too, causing her pants to pool around her feet completely as the barrier that held them up was gone.

Now she stood in her underwear. Rick wasn’t done yet, but they were finally getting to it.

Crouched between her feet in the same position, he lifted his head again and looked at her. She still had the same look, but she looked even more nervous now. Something swelled in his chest, too, seeing her like this—staring at him wildly as if she were a blushing, fair maiden—his lady in the woods. It made him feel—good—too, and he liked it, liked seeing her like this, because he knew he was possibly the only one who could get her like this… Because he was different for her, too.

He made a move over her pelvis, holding her hips, still looking at her eyes. Trembling, Amanda leaned back against the tree, holding it for support. But Rick didn’t touch her. He—he only wanted to see her reaction, and she didn’t—disappoint.

God—he so wanted to see her squirming under him, he started getting worried about how long he really was going to able to keep himself going. He was as hard as a rock inside his jeans, throbbing—twitching, all of him wanting to bury himself in her depths—claim her—have her…

Almost trembling, he caught her wrist and pulled her down. Later… they were going to have time for playing later. They’d already done a lot of _foreplay_ , driving each other insane. He—he needed to fuck her now.

And not a second later.

# # #

He’d snapped, broken free of his reservations Amanda couldn’t find anything to describe it better. The rotters that had interrupted them also broke their rhythm, the easy flow between them, snapping Rick's self control.

The way he was, God! It was the most exhilarating, thrilling, _and_ scariest thing, but it was the man she also dreamed of fucking her after each...battle. The way he let himself go and fought with his mad vigor, the way he beat Tyreese to a pulp, or led them in the fight, passionate and willful. That man was going to fuck her now, fuck her senseless, Amanda knew. It was all over in his eyes—and it…it was making her feel as if she was an uptight ball of strained nerves.

She was clad only in her knickers now under him, her bra already disposed of on top of the rest of her clothes. He was assaulting her with kisses, his hands—his _bare_ hands roaming all over her body, across the plains of her curves. She missed this, too, missed the sensation, missed being touched. But it was still going beyond everything she’d ever imagined or experienced as one part of her still wanted to go run away, and the other just wanted to close her eyes and yield herself to the moment.

Amanda closed her eyes, her subconscious making the decision, even though her stomach was so still so tight. She felt the fabric between them—separating them—his partly naked chest brushing over her skin as he grinded over her. But aside from it, he was still wearing his jeans, like he’d said…he was going to keep his clothes on. Her fingers brushed over part of his naked chest, trailing a path across his skin as Rick sucked in a deep breath in response, a husky hoarse rasp. Amanda liked that sound, she really did… Wanted to hear more… She curled her fingers inside the beltline of his jeans and tugged… realizing she—she wanted him naked, too….

Then she remembered—naked…

Soon they were going to be truly naked… _naked_.

They didn’t have condoms… The thought halted her hand as she opened her eyes. She—she’d never had sex without a condom before, wouldn’t have dared it before, never had trusted anyone that much even though she made sure she was also protected with injections. Unprotected sex was different.

You didn’t have sex with condoms only because of pregnancy. It…it protected you, not only from STDs, too. She could never be sure enough of anyone to have sex that way, trust anyone that way, never...open herself to anyone like that...

The tight ball was back inside her at full force as she tensed under him, then noticed Rick had stopped over her, too. She tucked her chin, and her eyes met with his narrowed ones. Smart as he was, seeing right through her like always, he _understood_ something happened.

“What’s wrong?” he rasped out in a low whisper, looking at her questioningly. “What happened?”

“I—” She forced out through her tight throat, blinking, trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings… “I—we—we don’t have condoms,” she whispered back.

Understanding, he nodded. “I—I’ll pull out,” he told her. “I—I can control it.”

She knew he could do it. It was dangerous, but he could do it, even though she felt like it was flirting with danger. But it still wasn’t what made her strained like a drawn bow. She nodded as he looked at her even more carefully. Amanda raised her chin up to turn away from his gaze…

His hand cupped her chin and made her look at him. “Amanda, I—I’m clean. I—I’ve not slept with anyone but my wife after I got married,” he explained, taking her nervousness the wrong way. “Hell, I haven’t _even_ slept with anyone for a long time.”

She swallowed, trying to crack up a joke, her voice faltering. “E-eight or so months aren’t that long, Rick…I have it worse.”

He shook his head, giving her a look. “And who said it was eight months?”

She stared at him, not quite understanding; Judith—Judith was around eight months. They…they…they must’ve done it. Sex wasn’t usually dangerous in pregnancy. But Rick shook his head again, as if he realized what she was thinking… “I told you it was complicated, Amanda—” he said with a sigh, and she frowned.

This—this was wrong!

Thinking about the last time when a man had sex with his dead wife—the wife he’d already confessed he was in love with—while she lay under him naked down to her panties!

Anger swept over her. She tried to push him off her. “Get off me!” She pushed him at his shoulders again. “I don’t want to talk about the last time you _fucked_ your wife before you fuck _me_!” She elbowed him as he tried to keep her under him. “Get off me—”

Rick tightened his grip. “I—I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean it like that. I—I just wanted to make you sure I—I’m clean.” His eyes found hers again as her movements slowly halted at his pleading, almost panicked tone. “Amanda— _please_.”

She stopped, still looking at him, blinking. She felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes—and if...if she cried right now—God! She was such an emotional wreck! His own mama would warn him to stay the fuck away from her, surely, if the woman saw _her_.

“Hey—” he called out to her, cupping her cheek again, his voice losing the urgency, instead turning into a soft caress. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” he asked. “And don’t tell me nothing. I know something _happened_.”

She closed her eyes for a second before she opened them again, swallowing. “I—I’m just nervous,” she confessed again, trying to keep her voice casual. “I—I’ve never had sex without condoms.”

Understanding lit in his eyes, and he slowly nodded. “We—w-we can stop if you want,” he offered, struggling with words. “Until I—uh find condoms.”

She looked at him, trying to decide. That part of her—the part that screamed at her that she was playing with fire was also screaming her to accept the offer, screaming at her to get back to her comfort zone, was warning her not to— _venture_ that far… But—but something just made her shake her head, that other part…the part that wanted to…see how much she’d changed.

She drew in a breath, calming herself, and her eyes found his. “Uh—I—I’ve always wondered how it’d feel—so…let’s get on with it.”

With a half of smirk, half a smile, Rick didn’t make her repeat herself.

# # #

Rick was trying to get on with it, he _really_ was, but she was just _not_ letting him.

Tightening his fingers on her hips to hold her in position, Amanda squirmed back away from him as he forced his length in an inch further inside, pushing through her folds. God, so tight—she was so fucking tight—so—so fucking tight—and even though she was wet, he felt as if he crashed against a barrier. She groaned in response, too, not out of pleasure, but in pain.

God! This—this wasn’t how he wanted her to moan.

“Amanda—don’t pull back—” he rasped, grinding with effort, his forehead perspired with sweat. Rick coiled his arm around her waist to keep her still as she inched away from him again on instinct. “Please, relax—” he implored. This…this wasn’t how he wanted her to squirm under him!

She—she’d become too wound up. He couldn’t even get half of him inside… She'd pushed him back each time. He’d fucked this up, too. He couldn’t even manage fucking her senseless, making her come—making her relax, calmed, satiated. Instead he got her wound up talking about Lori and condoms—God, he was an idiot.

He made another attempt, rolled his hips to try to get her comfortable. She trembled in pain. Rick pulled out.

It wasn’t working. Her closed eyes cracked open, glistening with unshed tears, as she felt him pulling out completely. She looked at him. “What—whaddya doin’?” she roughed out deep in her throat. “Don’t stop. Just—just do it!”

He drew away from her, straightened his back and pulled his jeans back over his hips again. He tugged _himself_ in and zipped his jeans. “No—not today,” he said softly, his hand reaching out to her cheek. “We—we got too…wound up today. We'll try another time, ‘kay?”

He aimed his words to soothe her, but it had the opposite effect. “No!” she hissed out, straightening up, too. “We want to fuck, and we will!” She grabbed his open shirt with a glare and pulled him back over herself. “Dammit, just get on with it!”

“No!” Rick pulled back. “No! You’re not ready, Amanda. We’re gonna wait.”

“I _don’t_ want to wait.” She shook her head furiously, her hands reaching out to him again. “I want to _fuck_!”

He caught her hands and pushed her on her back again. He lay behind her on his side, his back against the tree, and turned her on her side, too, her hands still in his. He tightened his arms further over her naked body, spooning her closely.

It felt much better, nesting her in his embrace—protecting her—keeping her safe. They were going to try again next time. For now, just having her in his arms was enough. They lay there in silence for a moment, then Rick heard soft sobs, her shoulders shaking lightly as she cried silently in his embrace.

“Shsss—baby—it’s okay—” the word left him easily as he tightened his arms even further. Nothing strange. Rick liked it—liked calling her like that. He kissed her shoulder lightly bowing his head. “It was my fault. I made you too nervous. Just relax now.”

She shook her head, and she sounded bitter when she bit out her next words. “We can’t even fuck…” His hands started playing over the plains of her flat stomach as she asked. “Why was it so easy last night, and this…complicated now?”

“Because we didn’t talk last night, I guess…” he muttered, his fingertips making lazy circles over her skin.

She sucked in a breath. “We—w-we should stop talking…” she moaned, and Rick realized his fingers were flittering just above her pelvis now.

He made a little gesture, and she rewarded him with another breathy moan. “I agree—” he whispered, lowering his hand between her legs… Amanda let out another moan—a deeper one, almost a groan. And this time it wasn’t in pain…definitely not.

Rick smiled.

A couple of minutes later, she became so soft, so docile in his arms, moaning deeply as he stroked her folds lightly. Rick couldn’t understand how it didn’t work before when he tried earlier, but he didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to do anything that would break their flow…

So, he just pushed a finger in her and immediately added another, too. His fingers slipped easily in her wetness, and she was dripping wet… She tossed her head back against his shoulder with a whimper as he curled them inside, giving way for him to trail kisses over her long neck. Rick added another finger, stretching her further. He needed to make her relax. He couldn’t take this long, and he still wanted to be inside her—badly…very badly.

“Rick—” She moaned, trembling as he sucked her pulse, his fingers stroking in her tight canal. He hit another time inside her, and she arched in response, another loud moan dropping out of her. God, he was going to need to keep her quiet. She…was a moaner. Rick got that—already got that, but he didn’t want to pull back his other hand that was cupped over the swell of her breast. In fact, he wanted to do the exact opposite. He wanted to pinch her perked up nipple. So, he did—twisted the peak—dammit—he even wanted to bite it…

She gave out another moan, mixed with his name again— “Rick…” and he was done.

Pulling away both of his hands, he turned her over on her back again and climbed on her again in the blink of an eye. There again she was staring at him, and _that_ was the way Rick wanted her to look at him, soft green eyes misted with lust and pleasure—imploring…

He cupped her face between his hands and started kissing her deeply like the first time he did. This time he wasn’t saying goodbye, though, he was saying something entirely else as he grinded himself against her folds… Let me in…

And she was ready. This time she was ready to let him in.

He pulled back an inch, taking his right hand down and positioned himself against her entrance. “Rick—” she moaned again as he pushed forward inside her, her head twisting to find his eyes. Rick stared back at her as he thrust with a long stroke and sheathed himself completely in her.

She groaned loudly, arching against him again, her insides fluttering and contracting around his length as he completely slid through her barrier that had kept him away. Her arms flailed and wounded around his neck in return, her legs wrapping around his lower hips in a heartbeat, and she trembled, clinging onto him… “Rick…”

God…this— _this_ was what he’d dreamed. Her like this…

And she was so tight—so fucking tight, so fucking hot, he _almost_ came.

He held on with his everything as she pulsed around his cock, tightly enveloping him. He hissed out a sharp breath as she stirred beneath him— And he almost dove off the cliff. “ _Hold still_ —” he rasped out, the deep strain in his voice almost sounding like it belonged to someone else, the veins in his temples throbbing. “Hold still a minute—”

“Rick—” she whispered again— “Rick—please. I want you.” The words again—He raised his head, their eyes finding each other. “I want you so much. Please.”

This time, he truly didn’t make her repeat that twice.

He pulled back, almost completely withdrawing, then thrust back again. She let out another loud groan and again as he repeated the act… If another walker came right at the moment, he didn’t even know what he would do—how he would leave her now like this… Rick wasn’t sure how he could _ever_ leave her again…

But walkers didn't come. And he kept fucking her as she wanted, as he wanted until she became a bundle of shivering, trembling moans, groans, and whimpers under him.

The way they did it…It was so simple. Her legs were loosely wrapped around his hips, as her hands clawed at his back or his upper arms for purchase. Rick knew how lithe she was, but she couldn’t seem to be doing anything else other than just laying beneath him, meeting each thrust as he pounded in her. And _he_ couldn’t take anything more…adventurous right now, either. Not when everything was so new, so primal, so… _alive_ with her. When even the simplest, tamest position like missionary felt like the wildest sex of his life.

His whole body was singing with a primal, wild song—a song she inspired with her groans, whimpers, and moans, a song she incited each time she contracted around him in her depths. She felt like molten lava, so hot…so fucking tight and hot… As shrilling moans started pouring out of her lips when Rick managed to hit a spot somewhere deep inside her and grinded himself against her pelvis, the crescendo of the song started picking up with him.

She shuddered, contracting, and wound her legs around him tighter as she slid them up over his waist. The act brought him further in her heated depths. Rick closed his eyes tightly, his stomach coiled into a ball, his blood pounding in his eardrums, his temples throbbing, her song singing inside him wildly, just out of his reach, but so close—just so damn close—waiting for him to reach out and take it—claim it…

So, he did. He pulled back, started giving her fast and rough thrusts, as hard as he could manage, as fast he could make them, rocking his hips, until he hit the spot he’d found deep inside her with a long, deep one.

He found it another time, and another time, as she completely went wild with loud, screeching moans, thrashing under him. She contracted, shivering and pulsing around him, making him reach his own peak after her. He almost let himself go inside in her depths. The urge was so strong, it took everything— _everything_ in him not to come inside her.

But he wanted it… He so fucking wanted to spill himself in her heated folds until his last drop… He tried to make a move to pull out before he lost his self control and gave in, but Amanda's legs wrapped over his waist didn't let him. He made another time, trying to pull out...in response, she tightened her legs....

God! His head turned as his blood drummed in his ear—the strong urge almost pushing him forward... "Amanda..." He managed to force out roughly. "Amanda, let me go...please." Her eyes flicked open after a second hearing him, and she gave him a look, green eyes clouded with lust, need and desire...looking almost lost then her legs loosened a bit... With his last ounce of willpower, Rick pulled away and shuddering, he emptied himself, just over her entrance... He didn’t have enough restrain to do anything else.

Without a word, her back dropped back on the ground, and following her, Rick dropped over her. His hand gently stroked hers, finding it laying lazily beside him on the ground as she shivered, and he shuddered…

Rick knew he was crushing her with his weight, but she didn’t make any attempt to get herself out from under him, just lay there, her legs still loosely around his hips, their bodies still shivering and shuddering with aftershock of their climax.

“Uh—” Amanda made a throaty sound after a while—Rick didn’t know how long, didn’t care either. “Uh—you—you didn’t come inside, right?” she managed to ask, her voice barely a hoarse whisper.

His head on the crook of her shoulder, he shook it. “No—pulled out.”

She must’ve nodded—even though he couldn’t see it… “Okay—” she whispered.

They still stayed motionless, still not making a move to pull away. “I—I liked it—” Rick heard her slowly say with the same whispered tone. “Doing it like this…I liked it.”

Doing it without any condom, being with him without any protection. He raised his head to look at her, trying to find something to tell her in return. Finding her lips, he merely kissed her.

She responded willingly—so soft—tender, melting against him further. It was hard to remember now they almost couldn’t manage it, the way she’d just kept pushing him out. Rick knew they _really_ , really needed to sit down and talk. Even with _sex_ _,_ it happened when they forced each other, but it was just so much easier to kiss her when she was like this…

A stir passed over him, and their hands—lazily playing each other started tightened around each other’s fingers. He clasped her hand tight…so tight—and raising it, he placed it over her head on the ground as he deepened the kiss.

Again, Amanda returned the kiss with the same zest.

Rick pulled back an inch, his hand still holding hers tightly. He felt himself hardening again. “Again?” he roughed out, looking into her eyes.

This time she gave him a small smirk, but still managed to look shy while doing so. She was somewhere now between the annoying smug pain in the ass where he wanted to kick her ass regularly, and the little shy girl who only wanted to protect herself. And Rick—really— _really_ wanted that woman, wanted her so much it started scaring him…

“Well—uh—I’ve _really_ missed it, Rick—” She gave him that coy smile, too, then staring at him, asked. “Do you?”

In answer, he ground his growing hardness at her still wet folds. “What do you think?”

With another shy smile, she turned her eyes away, tilting her chin up. “There’s still enough sunlight left, you think?” she asked, checking the sun’s position before she turned back to him. “You know—I—uh—I still want to learn how to set up a snare.”

He laughed in answer, shaking his head. “Don’t worry,” he assured. “There’s still some sunlight left,” he muttered before his lips found hers again. His hand still clutching hers was at the side of her head, and he liked it. He wanted to hold her hand tightly as he stroked himself in her.

Jesus Christ! He wanted her so badly—still—even just after he’d come, how long ago he still didn’t have any idea, but he was going to fuck her again. The only thing he couldn’t decide now was _how_ …?

A part of him wanted to watch her as she worked herself over his lap, holding her tightly in his arms, watching every expression she made as he fucked her hard. The other just wanted to flip her over and have her from behind, her firm, round bottom literally under his hands. God… Both visuals got him hardened further, and he leaned over her… “You choose—you want it on my lap or from behind?”

She shivered at the question. “Uh—both?” she moaned as he gently bit her earlobe.

He made out a noise. “Well, you have to pick one—” he told her with a small smile. “We can’t do both at the same time.”

“I say—from behind—” a voice—a rough male voice said from behind them as they both froze. Rick’s hand over hers tightened as he raised his head and looked at her as her eyes widened.

“Whaddya say, Len?” the voice continued. “Oh, and I claim this one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! First, yeah, the Claimers! They've finally made their appearance, too!
> 
> And-now, lemme make a short list for Rick Grimes for things not to do at the end of the world.  
> 1st- Don't offer your arch nemesis with a personal grudge for you, who you know is a sadistic sonofabitch with A TANK to share your home. Bad things definitely will follow.  
> 2nd- Don't have sex in a lustful frenzy open in the woods, lost to your surroundings-while keep moaning and groaning as if you're in your home. Bad things might follow. He he.
> 
> And, they were totally watching them fucking each other! Claimers are nasty that way. :)
> 
> Oh my god, so much things happened in this chapter-I just didn't want to break it in two. We got Maggie's message to BETH-to her sister she kinda forgot at the show-and Terminus-and the Claimers-and Amanda and Rick are in deep shit. Amanda is also stark naked as the day she was born... He he... I feel so-accomplished to manage to pull off all of these in a single chapter. LOL.
> 
> Like I said I also wanted the sex scene more focused on their mentality, and slipping off things, like Rick telling her it was more then nine months he didn't have sex-hinting that he wasn't sleeping with Lori and Amanda's issues with intimacy. I just didn't want them to get to the fucking each other senseless in one go before they almost screwed it up, couldn't almost even do it. You know, sometimes you get so tense-uh, it just doesn't happen.
> 
> Let me know what you think, like always I'm dying to hear!


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god! I almost write twice this chapter, struggling a lot with timelines, talks, and stuff, but finally did it!  
> Enjoy

**XXXII**.

Amanda noticed that Rick’s hand inched at his hip the second after the man’s declaration, a reflex on instinct, so quick, so covert, looking for the gun that wasn’t there.

He’d taken off his duty belt while he was unzipping his jeans, leaving it a few steps away from them beside the pile of her clothes. Her own gun and knives were just as far away, resting under her pants on top of his jacket. They both darted their eyes toward them at the same time and realized they couldn’t reach out without making a move first.

Stupid… so stupid… Hormones, lust, and desire—and _their_ _feelings_ had made them so stupid! Getting caught like this!

She didn’t even have a single piece of clothing over herself. She was stark naked…

_I want you naked._

Amanda wondered what Rick thought about it _now_. As if to answer her inquiry, his body tightened around her, trying to shelter her naked form from the men’s view, his eyes hardening into cut gemstone.

He twisted his neck and looked at the men. Amanda didn’t want to but followed his example. “We don’t want any trouble,” he rasped, turning further toward the men as his body still kept her most critical body parts covered.

Their intruders gave him sick smiles, one of them even sneered; the skinny, greasy one with the crossbow, a crossbow that he was keeping in the air trained on Rick.

Amanda wanted to sigh deeply. Why…why couldn't they just turn around and walk away? Was it really that hard? If Rick or Daryl saw another couple in the woods, that was what they would do. That was what good, decent people would do. She remembered what she’d told Lizzie…her code… and contrary to all evidence, it wasn’t _that_ hard.

In fact, it was a hell of lot _easier_ than this! “Yeah—bet you ain’t—” the sick pervert bastard intoned as anger started building in her.

The other one—muscled but not as much as Tyreese, a build closer to Daryl with an even more sickening expression over his face than his friend, and when the man talked, Amanda understood he was the one who had made that declaration.

_And I claim this one._

Amanda didn’t know what the words truly meant, but understood what the words had been directed toward, what had exactly been claimed a few seconds ago.

 _Her_.

Rick’s hand sneaked to the pile of his clothes, but the one who had claimed her raised his gun higher. “Don’t be smart, asshole.”

“I’ll just give her back her clothes—” Rick said, keeping his voice cool.

The sick bastard shook his head. “No. Up—” he ordered. “Turn around.”

The question was in her again. _Why_? They just wanted to have a little bit of downtime together for a while. Amanda had really liked this, doing _this_ with him, not only sex, too. No, this was something…different, too. Deeper. A deeper connection, like having sex without protection, trusting, opening up. She—she’d opened up herself to him. It wasn’t easy. They…they almost screwed up, but at the end managed it.

They just should’ve been laying in each other’s arms now, enjoying each other’s company—bantering sillyily to choose to how to do it… because they both wanted to do it again.

Perhaps she—she shouldn’t have moaned that loud. She—she’d tried to keep herself quiet, she really had, but dammit. She just couldn’t help herself. Each time he moved inside her, she felt like she was coming undone…

She stopped her thoughts. This…this _wasn’t_ a good time to think about how she’d come undone under him. Nor how much she _liked_ it.

She flicked her eyes at him and saw his expression, cut out of stone now, his relaxation completely gone. She saw the grim lines etched on his skin across his eyes and lips deepen, and Amanda saw anger there, too, a fury, a furious tempest in the depth of his eyes, and guilt.

Out of sudden she wanted to hug him tightly and tell him it wasn’t his fault. She’d wanted this. It was her who had started this. It was her idea. She was _also_ the one who were making all that sound. Rick was fairly less…vocal than her. Their eyes met as Rick turned back toward her again. Amanda gave him an encouraging nod in return.

They were going to roll with this. She wasn’t going to behave like a blushing virgin just because some men caught them having sex, either.

But right at the moment the man ordered further. “Turn her around, too—” They both froze again. “Get behind her. C’mon—” the sick bastard urged. “You heard me. I said _behind_.”

No… No… Fucking no!

 _FUCK IT!_ “We want to watch that, too—”

She closed her eyes as Rick shouted with fury. “ _NO!_ ”

She shook her head, opening her eyes and saw the man marching toward them, his gun raised higher. “I _said_ turn her around and get behind her!” he spat, shaking his gun at Rick who turned his head aside again to give the man a loathing look. “You fuck her now like I said, or I kill ya and fuck her in your stead. You _choose_.”

As soon as the words echoed, Amanda knew she had to do something before things went really ugly. Rick—Rick needed a distraction. She wandered her eyes around, assessing the situation quickly and realized that _she_ –all in her naked, just fucked-good glory–was the best distraction.

With an inward sigh and a screeching wail outside, she pushed Rick off her in a frenzied act and flipped herself over on her hands and knees like they demanded. “PLEASE!” she screamed, bowing her head. “PLEASE DON’T KILL HIM!”

She forced herself to cry as she continued screaming, crying, begging… “I—I WILL do everything you ask— _everything_ …”

All in honesty, she always thought if she wasn’t a police officer, she would’ve ended up being an actress or a con artist. She possibly would’ve made a very _good_ one. She raised her head, fixing her teary eyes on the bastard, and saw him staring at her caught up in the act.

_Idiot._

Slowly, letting him to revel in it, she started crawling toward him on her hands and knees, tears streaming over her cheeks. She hoped Rick wasn’t _only_ staring at her like a moron behind her because she could feel eyes on her back, but also drawing up a plan or something. She could take down this stupid perv, but he was going to have to deal with the one with the crossbow.

Her boot knife was still under her pants on top of Rick’s suede jacket, hidden. She needed to get it. _And_ the man had just stopped beside the pile of her clothes after his marching. “ _Please_ don’t hurt him…” Amanda begged some more, sobbing, getting into the act further. “ _Please_ … _please_ …” She put an extra imploring, quavering tone into her voice, too, making her lips tremble as she advanced toward the perverted bastard, still crawling on her hands and knees. “Please…I—I’ll d-do a-anything—anything y-you a-ask…please…please…”

She clutched the man’s left leg and drew herself up along it. “ _Please_ —” Out of the corner of her eye, she finally caught Rick, too, as he stood up, his jeans already zipped up. In the distraction of their captor’s astonishment, he’d also moved closer to the pile of her clothes. He could just leap and take his gun… It wasn’t that far now.

Her right hand slid toward her clothes. She raised her head at the man, her other hand still clutched around his leg… “Please— _whatever_ you want,” she cried out, this time roughing her voice into a throaty, sobbing purr. “However you want it, wherever you want to put it…” And she _knew_ she got his attention completely.

Her hand slid further under her pants above the suede fabric as the man fixed his eyes on her. Amanda kept her own eyes on him, too. “Whatever way—front…back…” she rolled with it… She just needed a few seconds more… “Please…please, just don’t hurt him…” Her fingers _finally_ brushed the leather sheath.

The man snorted in answer, looking at her with a vile, mocking smile. “Man, the things women do for love…”

Love? Was she doing _this_ for love? The frivolous saying halted her hand for the tiniest of seconds before her hand grasped the hilt of her blade, her eyes still on the man.

Looking back at her, the bastard was confused, sensing—seeing the abrupt change in her. Amanda didn’t waste any time after that. Dropping the act completely, she leaped up, sweeping him onto the ground with a swift kick as her left hand grabbed his hand that held the gun.

She raised his arm up in the air before his finger squeezed the trigger, then rolled them over the foliage to throw him over her shoulder before the man could fire the gun.

Rick didn’t hesitate either. He lunged forward at the same moment as the other man with the crossbow shot him. He quickly sidestepped dodging the bolt. Amanda slid over the man’s body, holding the gun with one hand as with the other she drove the sharp tactical blade through his throat.

It'd happened so quick the asshole still had that confused expression on his face as he began making gurgling noises blood pouring out of his throat.

Grabbing the gun, she pulled back to her feet, passing it to her empty hand. She caught the man with the bow as he turned around and started running. But it was too late for that now. _Too_ _late_.

She pivoted her body for the range and aimed the gun on him, but before she pulled the trigger, Rick, waving his arm, stopped her. “No! No gunshots!” he shouted at her and started running after the bastard. “I got him! Put your clothes on.”

Bowing her head, she remembered she was _still_ naked. Her eyes flicked to her hand, now wet and slick with blood as she held the gun.

Her eyes turned to the dying man on the ground as she stood above him. Lowering her arm at her side, realized she’d just killed another sonofabitch who she didn’t even know his name. Just another sonofabitch in the woods. One of the many. Rick had been right on that part. They weren’t important. There were just _so_ many, but she—she was getting tired of this.

She sighed, naked and tired. “Why?” The question left her even before she knew it. “Why did you do this?” she asked the dying man.

Sometimes she really didn’t understand… Couldn’t. Was it really that hard just turn around and leave? Just being…she didn’t know… a decent human being?

In answer, the man only gave out gurgling voices as he choked on his own blood.

Amanda shook her head, making a bitter sound as she watched him die. It ended a few seconds later. She crouched then, took her knife out, holding the bleeding wound with her left hand and stabbed him in back of his neck.

Small mercies.

Heaving deeply, she wiped her blood covered hands over his leather jacket then turned to her clothes. She started putting them on, and just as she was clinching her holster around her upper thigh again, Rick came back.

His feet faltered for a second on seeing her. Amanda drew up, looking at him as well. She—she really felt weary. How good it felt having him inside her as he filled her entirely. They went with the flow, yielded to the moment as she opened herself, and he came willingly as if…as if…god…she knew she sounded cheesy, but she’d felt it—as if…as if they…completed—something _together_.

And, like each good thing in their lives, it ended like this. She swallowed through a tight lump in her throat. “Done?” she asked, inquiring if he killed just another sonofabitch in the woods again.

Rick simply nodded.

Her eyes turned to the dead man beside her feet again. Amanda shook her head, looking at the dead corpse. “I—I don’t understand,” she muttered as Rick walked to her. “They could’ve just turned around and walked away. Like—like we tried to do when we first met in the woods.” She turned to him. “That’s what decent people would do.”

Rick stood in front of her. “There’s not many decent people left, Amanda,” he said. “You know that.”

Amanda nodded. She felt her eyes burning, but there were no tears left now. He took a step forward and put his hands around her waist tentatively as if it wasn’t him who was fucking her brains out a couple of minutes ago. “What you did there—” he told her in a small voice. “I—I know you did it for me, but _don’t_ do that again.” His eyes bore through hers. “Don’t risk your life like that for me again.”

“Rick—”

“ _No!_ ” he cut her off heatedly. “I don’t want you to do it!” He closed his eyes for a second, shaking his head, and when he reopened them, she saw a sheer determination glinting inside them. “I— _I_ protect you, keep you safe—”

She cut him off, too. “Rick, _we_ keep each other safe, we protect each other’s back—” she objected, a part of her wanting to kiss him senseless, the other part just wanting to smack some sense into his head. They…they were together into this.

 _Together_. The word echoed in her…. _Together._ Were they, right?

She gave him a small, tired smile, touching his cheek, and brushed her fingers over his beard. She liked it, the affectionate gesture like he did to her, and she liked the fact she could do it now. “You save me the next time, ‘kay?” she whispered, trying to keep her voice clear, free of her swelling emotions. “It’s not like you won’t get another chance…”

He bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It—it doesn’t feel right,” he muttered. “I—I should protect you—kids…”

“You’re protecting me—” Amanda said. “You already did. You almost sacrificed yourself for us. You walked in front of a gun for me.” She let out a deep sigh. “Rick—I—I don’t know what happened—” She swallowed, forcing herself to go on. “What—what happened with your wife, but it wasn’t your fault.” She paused, swallowing again. “You should stop blaming yourself.”

His eyes found hers again. “How?” he asked her, “How do you know?”

“Because I know you.”

The look he gave her in return stole her breath away for a second. The urge to turn her eyes away was so strong in her again, but this time she didn’t. She looked back at him. “Terminus—if it’s what it’s supposed to be,” she said. “We—we sit down—get drunk first, and—and talk, okay?”

Because Amanda wasn’t an idiot. She knew there was still much more to that story, much more than just…guilt. People who were supposedly in love didn’t stop having sex with each other without a reason. The curious thought was there, nudging at her consciousness to slip in, but Amanda kept it away. She—she couldn’t deal with that now. She really wasn’t sure if she could do it even _then_ , but well, she—she wanted to try. For him.

She—she could make another exception for him. He seemed to be her exception for many things. “Um—just make sure I’m _properly_ drunk first—" she mumbled, letting out a sigh.

Rick smiled at her softly. “We will.” He cleared his throat a second later. “We—we need to go back,” he stated. “I don’t know if they’re a part of a group or just two of them, but I don’t want to risk it.”

Her eyes flicked toward the dead man again, assessing him differently. “Yeah… They don’t seem like lost souls in the woods,” she remarked. “Possibly got friends, too.”

“More reasons to get outta here—” Rick said, nudging at her before he turned and started walking away.

Amanda followed, halting in her steps as a thought came to her before she resumed walking again. “Rick—do—do you think they’re from Terminus?” she asked. “They—they really don’t seem like just two guys in the woods. They might have a compound around here.”

Rick shook his head. “I don’t know—” he accepted. “Might.”

“Are we still going to stay in the cabin?” she asked. “We’ve got more numbers now. We can leave. I—I can keep Judith quiet.”

His eyes skipped over to her. “How do you do it?” he questioned. “Judith—” he clarified, seeing her darting him a look, too. “I’ve never seen her with anyone like that before—even with Carol.”

She sighed out. “Frankly, I—I don’t know. We got babies all the time in the homes. Used to take care of them a lot. They—they like me, I guess.”

Rick gave her another soft smile. “You’re very good with kids.”

Here her again, blushing… She bowed her head and mumbled a thanks not knowing what else to say. “Uh—thanks…”

“But no—” he said after a second. “Better if we stay under a roof. If they find us, they find us,” he stated simply. “We deal with them.”

Amanda nodded in silence. She guessed that was the bottom line, too, but Rick shifted another side look at her. “You—uh—you just make sure you have some clothes on.”

She couldn’t help herself, a small laugh escaped from her. She turned to him. “I told you we _should_ keep our clothes on,” she reminded him. “ _You_ wanted me naked.”

Giving a sigh, he bobbed his head. “Yeah…that part was definitely my fault.”

“Hmm mm—” She hummed in agreement but paused. “Uh—I shouldn’t have moaned that loud, I guess—” she mused out, giving him a side look. “Sorry about that.”

Suddenly his hands caught her and pulled her against himself. “ _Don’t_ tease me, officer,” he rasped at her as she hit his chest. “I’m _still_ barely holding myself from ravishing you again.”

She smiled—bowing her head, suddenly feeling so inappropriately…giddy for someone who just killed a man— “Sorry…” she muttered. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Uh huh—” He made a noise, almost dry, and then did something she could never— _ever_ expect him to do.

He held her hand and started walking again.

Amanda felt like she was in another world…a very bizarre one—where everything just turned upside down. She looked at their tangled hands as they walked back to the cabin, her stomach making flip flops. But she wasn’t nervous, just felt odd. And it wasn’t only because she’d just made another _exception_ for him again, and let him hold her hand—

She shook her head. “This—this isn’t…appropriate.” Rick gave her a look, turning his head to him. “Us. Like this.” she clarified. “We—we’re walking hand-in-hand, teasing each other…” She shook her head again. “We just _killed_ two men.”

“Two _sonofabitches_ ,” Rick corrected her. “Better dead for everyone else’s sake.” He stepped over a fallen log. “Won’t lose any sleep over it.”

“Yeah, there’s that,” she admitted with another low sigh. She lifted her head up and checked the sun as he helped her over the log, his hands at her waist lifting her over it. He didn’t need to, she could jump over the thing like nothing even while she was running, but she let him. She liked him doing it… “We didn’t set up any snares,” she remarked as he landed her on the other side.

“Tomorrow morning,” Rick said, taking her hand again. “We take the others as well, and I show y’all.” She nodded. There would be no more sneaking away in the woods for them like today. Despite everything, Amanda felt a bit…disappointed.

Uh, she really would like to try those positions. Rick—just as she’d expected, proved himself a very good lover. He even found her spots on his first…try, even managed to hold himself back as long as he could, and the way he whispered to her to let him go before he came… _Baby, let me go—_

The memory raised a wave of heat inside her as she remembered how she tried to keep him inside her, her legs clenching around his waist as he tried to pull back… She—she didn’t want him to leave her… It was a struggle to let him go. It must have been a real struggle for him, too, given how long he might be not doing—

As soon as she thought it, the questions raised in her again…how long it’d been _really_ … or _why_ … Inwardly she shook her head. She didn’t want to think about that, still didn’t want to open that can of worms… So instead, she tried to pick a position. He...he’d _asked_ her to choose after all.

She thought she really would like him to get her on her stomach as he did all the _hard_ _work_ from behind while Amanda just lay and enjoyed herself… and if he could just angle himself _right_ , she knew he would drive her crazy, batshit crazy—especially if he placed her legs together as he stroked her with upward motions with each thrust, but then she wouldn’t see him unless she craned her neck aside the whole time.

She—she liked seeing him as he fucked her… sometimes it was too much, too intense, so she turned her eyes away from his, from the intensity as he stared at her that way. His stares always made her nervous even in daily life, but in sex, it just became…unbearable. So, she just closed her eyes, raising her chin upward… giving herself to the moment, but the feeling…it—it was still exhilarating.

There were other thoughts and voices trying to slip in her consciousness after that, coming at her without notice, but Amanda steeled herself, shooing everything away, deciding to go with “behind”, safely away from Rick Grimes’s intense stares. Then the cabin entered their sight.

And Rick let her hand go.

Welcome back, reality, Amanda snickered inside.

He stood there, looking at her as she bowed her head. “It’s okay—” She forced slowly through a lump in her throat. “You can put it back on.”

He nodded, but his hand still stayed against his hip, not taking out his ring from his pocket. “I’ll talk with Carl as soon as possible,” he said instead. “I don’t want to do this like…this.”

The words lifted something off her chest, even though he’d already told her he was going to make sure Carl was okay with everything…with _them_. Amanda…understood. She didn’t want to make things harder, more difficult for the teenage boy. His life was already hard as it was.

“Neither I do,” she agreed. “I don’t want to lie to him.” She paused again and before she could stop herself, another question left her mouth. “What’re you going to tell him?”

Rick gave her a long, long look—keen, measuring eyes searching through her. “I’ll tell him the truth, Amanda,” he answered. “I’m gonna tell him I feel…different for you.”

She nodded, even though she didn’t know what she was exactly giving her consent about. They always did this. Used sterile pronouns or vague adjectives to describe what they had.

 _It_. _This. Us. Different._

They’d both admitted they wanted to try it, but they’d never actually put a name on _it_. Were they really together now? In a relationship…? Or just making an exception for each other?

She realized she still had no idea.

And she wasn’t liking it. She honestly didn’t even know how long she could take it, either.

Amanda had never been good with uncertainty. She really didn’t like unlabeled, undefined things in her life, absolutely hated blurred lines. She didn’t want to think about them before, tried to ignore them all, but the lines just became more blurred, and…and weren’t they trying to make them clearer now?

She shook her head, almost at herself.

“No—” No. She… she couldn’t do it like this anymore. “That’s too vague for me, Rick. Most of the time, I feel lost with you. I’ve—I’ve made many _exceptions_ for you,” she told him truthfully. “But I need more clarity now.” She braced herself, closing her eyes. “So please forgive the _utter_ banality of the question, but—” She spoke the words in a one single breath before she opened her eyes and looked at him directly. “What _are_ we exactly now?”

Rick heaved a deep sigh, passing a hand over his face. “Honestly, Amanda, I thought that was what we’re gonna try to find out,” he said slowly, almost tired. “By that definition, I’d say you’re—uh—my girlfriend now but—” he halted, grimacing. “I just killed someone for you and feel like shit because you had to kill the other one yourself…” He paused, giving her a look. “ _Girlfriend_ …sounds too feeble for that.”

“I…guess…” she muttered and looked at him again. “So…?”

He let out another breath. “Do you really need to find a name for us?”

Amanda sighed, too. “I—I don't deal well with unnamed things, Rick,” she confessed. “And like I said, I already made too many exceptions for you. Because I—I feel…different for you, too.” She swallowed, before admitting, “But I need defined lines to know where I stand.”

“You stand beside me—” his answer came without hesitation, and he took a step closer and cupped her cheek with his left hand, his _bare_ left hand.

“Amanda—” He called her name with that soft, softest timbre reverberating inside her. “Please, _trust_ me. I know it’s hard for you, but you have to trust me with this. Don’t break our flow, don’t force us, don’t force _yourself_.” He paused, gently caressing her skin. “You saw what happened today when we broke it.”

She closed her eyes as he slowly continued stroking her cheek, her chin tilting up with his motions, and she knew she was just making another exception for him … A part of her still wanted to press further, demand an answer, the other part was just ready to let it go… just crush herself against his chest, let him take her in his embrace. She wanted… she wanted... she wanted… she wanted _him_.

God!

She just wanted _more_ of him. “Rick—” she breathed out, but the rest of her words faltered on her lips.

He took a step closer, bringing his other hand up, too. He cupped her face in his hands. “I _know_ my feelings. Give us time, baby—” She closed her eyes, hearing the word reverberating in her… “We’ll figure this out. Just trust me—” he whispered to her, before his lips claimed hers again.

Just one kiss, and all the thoughts, words, and suspicions that were clawing at her consciousness to slip in silenced, and Amanda just let herself go and kissed him back.

It was so _easy_ to do that…kiss him.

But less than ten seconds, it turned to something else. His hands left her face and started unzipping her pants again as Amanda started unbuckling his duty belt.

“We shouldn’t do this—” she muttered as his holster dropped down, and she unzipped his jeans, all the while Rick walked her back against the tree behind her. Hers were already undone, slid down with her pants pooling around her legs. The next second, he took off his jacket and her tee again, but left her bra, and Amanda knew this time she wasn’t going to get fully naked. “We really shouldn’t do this—” she muttered again as her back hit at the tree’s trunk. It was insane. _They_ were insane. Doing it again, just after getting caught, after ending up killing two people that were possibly much better off dead.

But his eyes finding hers, Rick finally asked her again. “Do you want us to stop?”

The answer came to her with such clarity, she felt no doubt in her. “No.”

“Good—” he told her, pulling her knickers aside. “Now— _try_ to keep quiet.”

She almost laughed, but it died out in her throat, turning into a loud moan that she tried to muffle by pressing her lips against his shoulder as he angled her hips and rammed into her with one long stroke.

Even in the awkward position it felt too deep—too full… filling her, but not enough. Tightening her core for strength, she rotated her hips out further to take him deeper. In return, tilting his head, Rick stared at her with that intense look again before he hoisted her up against the tree and started pounding into her with a fast but definite rhythm. His pace was almost merciless as he roughly slammed himself against her, his eyes still glued on hers. Amanda closed her eyes, tossed her head back to turn away from his gaze as her body gave in…

The act, though, made her moan freely again, but before she could raise her hand and press her palm against her mouth, he did it.

Leaving her waist, he raised his left hand and covered her mouth. Startled, she darted her eyes down and saw him—then she was almost done.

A wild beast, sharp blue eyes glinting with edge, he was the man again who peeked out whenever he lost his self-control, and his primal instincts took control over him. The last time he couldn’t get on with it, but this time—he was looking at her like she was prey he wanted to devour, and devour her, he did.

Moving her legs up as wide as her pants let her, she leaped and gripped his hips between her knees to give his merciless thrusts further access in her depths as linking their fingers, Rick raised her arm with his and propped them against the tree.

He held her hand like that, above her head as his other hand stayed over her mouth while he fucked her rough and hard against the tree, her knees still squeezing his hips tightly holding herself in the position with the years of yoga practice to get herself at least some fractions until Rick started shuddering. He pulled himself back—she knew once again at the last moment—and came just over her entrance.

God—if they kept going on like this, she was going to end up in deep shit.

Her legs were shaking, too—but not because of an orgasm. It was impossible for her to come in that position, but nevertheless, the exertion was enough to melt her knees. She knew she was a sight, just like Rick. He just looked like he had a good quickie, disheveled clothes, his jeans loosely under his hips with his underwear. Hers were still around her ankles over her boots, her skin bruised with kisses, bites, and sucking, tousled hair with pieces of tree bark, his semen still slipping over both of their inner thighs. It was oddly satisfying, too, and she liked him seeing like this, and she liked the fact that _she_ made him look like this… They were going to have to put themselves back together before they returned to the cabin, clean themselves…But she was tired…

God, she feverishly wished she would just drop on the ground and sleep in his arms—

Sleep—

She wondered when they really could sleep together just like she’d dreamed before—in his arms—just after he fucked her, spooning her against his chest like he’d done today or laying on his chest. She—she could do both this time. A tremor passed over her as she realized how much she really wanted it… God, they really needed to come—uh—out of the closet with this.

Like now.

Dropping his arms, Rick leaned against her further, letting his weight crush her against the tree. And she liked it, she really liked it… He bowed his head against her shoulder. “Sorry—” he mumbled. “Couldn’t hold out long.”

She looked down at him. “Don’t worry about it,” she roughed out. “It was good. We—” The rest of her words died at her lips as she raised her head.

And she stared… As if sensing her sudden stupor, Rick raised his head and looked at her as she just kept staring behind him.

No.

_Fuck no!_

Rick turned his head aside— “Carl?” Rick whispered as she stared at the teenage boy, who looked back at them with a stony expression on his face.

Then without a word, Carl turned on his heel, and started walking back to the cabin.

Quickly, Rick pulled away from her, already buckling up himself back up. Amanda saw his fingers tremble, bowing her head. He turned and hurriedly followed after his son. “Carl—” he called out. “Carl! Wait!” he shouted— “CARL!”

Carl just kept walking.

# # #

When the sun went down, and the gloom of the early evening fell, Maggie stood where the tracks met and looked beyond.

Sanctuary for all…

They were finally here. Her hand grasped Glenn’s, and her husband gave her reassuring squeeze. _We made it,_ it said. _We’ll be good,_ it said. _It wouldn’t hurt you to keep a little bit of faith,_ it said. Maggie wondered if her sister saw her message, if she knew where they were heading, but she hushed the little suspicious in her mind and gave a squeeze back to her husband.

They were here. If her sister wasn’t here, then she was just going to go out and find her. She was just going to follow the tracks.

A sniff behind her, a loud one, interrupted her thoughts, and a booming voice exclaimed, “Man—can you smell that?” T heir new…friend, the red-haired soldier laughed, making another sniff. “Motherfuckers—is this some old barbecue, or did I die and go to heaven?”

They walked inside the perimeters of the old train building compound as an older woman looked at them from behind the barbecue they smelled as they approached. “Strangers—” she smiled warmly. “Welcome to Terminus.”

# # #

In the moonlight, the almost-fifteen year old teenager was sitting by an already dead little campfire, his arms tied across his chest to protect against the chill of the night.

The teenager wasn’t cold, though. He was far too angry to feel cold. A fire was burning inside him. _He_ would see. He wasn’t a child anymore, and _he_ would see. The teenager was going to show _him_.

Nevertheless, the teenager was far better without _him_. He didn’t need _him_. _He_ was going to see. He didn’t need _him_ to survive. He was going to find that compound before even them. He could do it.

He wasn’t a child anymore. _He_ was going to see.

The teenager was done with _him_. Done with _his_ failures, with _his_ fuck ups, with _his_ …lies. _He_ never did anything right. He didn’t need _him_. _He_ could go and keep fucking _his_ new girlfriend like that for all he cared. He didn’t care. The teenager even liked the female officer. She was cool, along with Michonne, she was probably the coolest woman he’d ever known, but the teenager wasn’t really in the market for a new _Mommy_. Judith might need _that_ , but he didn’t. He wasn’t a child anymore.

He nodded at himself, pulling his jacket closer. He might go to the tracks right now. He could arrive where the tracks meet just after dawn.

 _Before_ them.

He almost made a move to stand up and started looking for the tracks, but stopped dead hearing the crunch of twigs… He pulled out his gun, aiming it at the trees. It must be walkers. No one walked in the woods in night—and he was very silent… A lone walker.

The teenager would deal with it.

But he must be silent. Gunshots were dangerous. He tucked his gun back in its holster, pulled out his hunting knife, and waited.

Waited, waited, waited…but nothing came.

His nerves… It must be his nerves.

The teenager sat down again, shaking his head at himself.

He shouldn’t be afraid.

He _wasn’t_ afraid.

Then he heard it again—this time louder and nearer… The teenager stood up again—his hand on his knife. Two men walked into the little clearing he’d found, and others followed.

“Oh! I’ll be damned—” one of the men laughed, looking at him. “Look what we found, Joe—”

The teenager drew his gun quickly.

His father would be proud, but the fourteen year old boy didn’t think of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right!  
> Here we are... Carl finally learning it at the worst way possible, but it had to be done--because--well, you'll see at the next chapter. He he. The idea of Carl slipping away, actually, though, came to me as reading one of yours comments (Supergirl, hey there :D) it was for Beth, but I thought it'd actually work really good for Carl, because he definitely got mad catching them together, wanting to prove himself to his dad. As you may see, I made a little bit time jump at the end--going to the night, but with the next chapter, we'll see how we get to that point. I like making that stuff, too. And of course, the big show down between Carl and Rick. The reason why I kept them away at the first night was actually because of this, too, so I could've gotten Carl mad at Rick after he learned about Amanda and Rick.
> 
> And, yeah, Amanda and Rick always got caught :D I really struggled with their talk as well, because they HAD TO have that dreaded "what are we" issue out too now, and "you're my exception" is from the movie "He's not that into you". I wrote that scene like three times, I think, I hope the last result is good.  
> The start of the chapter was also a bit hard to deal as Amanda again showed how much a good actress she could be--but the real theme was there actually her ongoing questioning why people are that bad--why they do this. This IS a very big stuff for her, and will come at full force with Claimers and Terminus, I'm afraid. The next chapters are going to be hard to write for me, I think. :(
> 
> Wow...again, I talked A LOT! But seriously, I just noticed today this story has become one of the most commented stories at Rick Grimes/Original Characters section (As for Amanda Shepherd there're only my stories, lol) and I became insanely happy seeing it. Please, never stop commenting, he he :D Can't say how much I like reading them.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I got so stressed over with this chapter, I can't tell you how much. I really hope I'm not screwing up with this! It was so good to see you getting excited to see what would happen as much as me :D THANK YOU!

**XXXIII.**

“CARL! CARL! CARL!” Rick continued shouting after his son as Carl continued walking from him, not halting his retreat even for a second.

Of all the scenarios Rick would think how he could come clean to his son about what was happening between him and Amanda, this wouldn’t be even in his wildest dreams. Getting caught up like that, in an act that would make even a hardcore porn scene look tame.

_God!_

He remembered the way they were at the tree, his hand covering over Amanda’s mouth, the other holding hers above her head trapped as she clutched him with her knees in a move Rick wasn’t even sure how she managed to keep up, but he’d realized she didn’t do those crunches for nothing when she squeezed her inner thighs tight... In return, he was pounding in her madly unrestrained, unhinged, a beast—that thing inside him freed again, the beast that made him kill countless walkers in a raging frenzy after he’d learned about Lori’s death, the beast that beat Tyreese into a pulp—the beast that had probably kept them alive so far.

And, Carl—Carl had seen him like that. Again.

His stomach coiled further as he ran after Carl, his hands shaking.

His son—his son wasn’t supposed to see him like that—especially like _that_ —with Amanda. This—this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He—they should have a moment together like how they had before Rick left with Amanda—a father-son moment where they could talk like men.

His boy was becoming a man. Carl—he could understand. Rick would explain. The days were hard, and it—it was even harder to be alone. They all needed someone to lean on… Rick would’ve explained…he would’ve said…said…what really would he say? That he wanted her? Needed her? He didn’t want to be alone anymore?

Carl was aware how things were between them before Lori had died. They’d never talked about it, but his boy wasn’t stupid. Carl knew. He didn’t know what had happened, didn’t know about Shane and his mother, or Judith, but he _knew_ …something. Like he’d sensed s _omething_ was going on between him and Amanda. Rick had read it in his eyes, in his looks… _What did you promise to each other, dad?_

Yes, Carl knew, yet, he was still a fourteen year old who had just caught his father having sex with another woman in the woods in the most vulgar way possible. He should’ve listened to Amanda… They shouldn’t have done it that close to the cabin… He—he—God! He just didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t…

“Carl! Please, stop—” Rick cried out again just before Carl went into the cabin. Rick quickened his pace, his wounds throbbing terribly after all the…cardio he’d done in the day, and caught the wooden door before it closed in his face.

Amanda was on his heels, too. He saw her walking towards the cabin when he glanced back over his shoulder, halting at the threshold before he walked in. Her head was bowed as if she was walking to her own execution, and the sight of her! Dammit! She was a sight, the way she looked, her clothes messed up—her hair tousled—her usually ivory neck and face flushed—irritated with his beard, and bruised with his lips and teeth—

God! He wondered what a sight he was himself—

Cutting his thoughts off, Rick entered into the cabin and nevertheless, his question got answered as heads turned, and they stared at him, eyes widening…

He wasn’t looking any better than Amanda.

So Rick stood in front of the door as the others just stared at him—out the corner of his eye, he even saw Daryl’s eyes quickly darting a look at his groin… where a slight wetness over the front of his jeans was still quite visible as he’d quickly buckled up before he cleaned himself.

Inwardly, he wanted to groan. As if it wasn’t already enough that he barely held himself not to come inside her and risked it coming outside her entrance, he stood in front of them with a semen taint across his crotch like a teenage boy that had jerked off inside his pants…

He took a step further in the room as without sparing him even a glance, Carl walked toward the bedroom where Judith must be sleeping…“Carl, stop—” he called after his son. “We need to talk—”

As the words left his mouth, Carl finally _stopped_ and turned around. “Oh, now you want to talk?” he shot dryly, way too dryly for a son talking to his father, but this time Rick let it go.

“Carl—” he started. “Let’s go out and talk man to man—”

His fourteen year old boy gave him a smile, cutting him off. “Do you want no one to learn it, dad? You wanna keep it secret?” he asked. “I thought it was only me—” He paused and turned to the others. “Do you know Amanda and Dad are together?” he asked as Amanda stepped into the cabin.

Beth and Joan snapped their heads over to look at her as Amanda stopped beside Rick, hearing the question. Daryl stood up from his place under the window in the corner and waved a hand towards others. “Uh—let’s go out—”

Rick glanced at the other man. “No, we'll go out—” he repeated and turned to Carl. “Son, let’s make a round and talk.”

“I asked you—” Carl muttered instead, shaking his head. “I asked you twice, and both times you said _nothing_.”

“Carl—we—we didn’t mean to lie to you,” Amanda spoke beside him. “We weren’t going to hide it. In fact, your father was going to talk you—”

“What?” Carl cut her off with a sneer. “So he didn’t have any time to talk to me—” he snapped, staring at her… “but managed to find some to FUCK you like THAT!”

“CARL GRIMES!” Rick bellowed out, his eyes widening as he flinched back at the word.

“Isn’t it WHAT happened?” he screamed. “Where’s your ring, Dad?” His son gave him a loathing look, his eyes casting a glance at his father's left hand. “It seems like you found time to take it off, as well. It seems like you found time for everything except telling me, dad.”

Rick marched toward him and caught him by his shoulder. “We’re going out.” He pulled the boy— “ _Now_.”

“No!” Carl screamed again, yanking himself off. “No. I’m NOT talking to you!” he shouted as Amanda cut in between them.

“Maybe we should stop talking right now and wait it out until tomorrow—” she suggested. “Carl, we could—”

Carl stopped her again. “ _DON’T_ act like you’re my mom!” he spat. “I’m not in the market for a new _mommy_. Judith might need it, but I’m not a child.”

Rick stared at his boy. “You could’ve fooled me, son.”

“No—” Carl shook his head. “No, dad, I’m not a child, but you never accept it.” He said with a seriousness that squared his jaw so tightly Rick thought he broke his teeth for a second. “You never do anything right. We lost the prison because of you,” he sneered before his tone turned more accusing. “Because you couldn’t protect it. You can’t protect us. You couldn’t protect mom, and you let her die. You pushed her away first, then you let her die. Now you started looking for a new mom for us!”

The words came like a blow, but Rick still tried to soften his voice. “Carl, I understand you’re upset—” Right that moment, Judith woke up at the clamor and started crying from the bedroom. Amanda quickly started trotting toward the room.

Carl gave out another snicker. “Oh, is it why you’re this good with us?” he asked as Amanda passed him. “Taking care of Judy—spending time with kids—” he taunted her with a hiss. “Are you trying to show Dad how a good mommy would you make for us?”

Stopping dead in her steps, Amanda stared at his teenage son as Rick, closing his eyes, shouted again. “STOP IT!”

“OR WHAT?” Carl screamed and challenged him further, marching on him. “OR WHAT, DAD?” He stopped in front of him. “Will you ground me? Will you take my gun again? Will you make me grow shit, feed pigs? WHAT?”

“Rick, it’s okay—” Amanda said as Rick stared down at his boy, anger sweeping him, his jaw clenched—his teeth gritting. “Stay out of this, Amanda—” he told her flatly, his eyes still on Carl’s. Carl stared back at him at the same way. “This is between me and my son.”

“Yeah—stay out of this, _mommy_ —” the boy snickered.

“You say you’re not a child, but you damn well act like one!”

“I’m not a child!”

“I’m not seeing it,” Rick shot, still staring at his boy. “All I’m seeing a boy who chose to throw a tantrum in front of everyone instead of going for a talk like how men are supposed to do,” he told the teenager with the same curt firmness. “Make no mistake, Carl. I don’t need to explain myself to you, nor do I need to take your permission for anything. I _AM_ still your dad, and you’re _STILL_ my child.”

“I’m _not_ a child.”

“And I’m still not seeing it, son—” Rick repeated and ordered. “Go check on your sister now. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Carl glared at him for a few seconds more before without another word, he spun on his heel and walked to the bedroom where Judith was still softly crying.

Rick watched his back as the others watched him in silence, even Amanda, then he turned and walked outside. He—he couldn’t stay inside.

He found the backside of the cabin and leaned back against the cabin’s wooden logs, bowing his head with a long sigh. The confrontation left him blank. His mind was blank, his thoughts were blank, except knowing that it shouldn’t have been that way, but it had happened. A couple of minutes later, Daryl came out.

Rick looked at the tracker as the other man approached him, half surprised it was him, not Amanda, but then if Rick knew her even a bit, she possibly might be looking for a spot to hide herself in now. _I’m not in the market for a new mommy…_ Rick heaved a deep sigh again. It wasn’t like that. Rick wasn’t looking for a new…wife… yet as he stared at the ground, the thought twirled in his mind—Amanda playing with kids, bouncing Judy in her arms.

Rick had always liked her seeing like that; she looked happy, and Rick liked seeing her happy. Then he remembered his dream and suddenly smelled pancakes… The kitchen white and bright as she twisted toward him, smiling at him brightly, his arms wrapping around her waist from behind—

Daryl stopped in front of him a few steps away as Rick was still looking at the ground. “Uh—I got a smoke—was saving it for a bad day,” the tracker told him as a way of greeting. “Wanna?”

Rick raised his head. “I don’t smoke.”

“Can’t think of a better occasion to start—” the man shot back, taking a squashed cigarette package out of his front pocket and offering it to him.

Rick took it. He pulled the last remaining cigarette out and lit it with the lighter Daryl had procured, a treasure itself in these days. He pulled in a shallow drag to prepare himself, and the smoke filled in his lungs. It’d been a while, a long while, Rick had never been fond of nicotine or weed. He’d tried it at college because Shane had insisted—

He took a deeper drag this time, stopping the thoughts and almost choked when curt, stale smoke seeped through his throat.

This was some shit. His eyes started burning— “Man—” Rick coughed through rough breaths as Daryl almost laughed.

“Ya ‘kay?” the hunter rumbled.

Rick nodded, taking another drag in, this time even longer; funny enough he started liking the burning sensation. Made him think something _else_ other than what had happened, but then Daryl asked. “He caught you, huh?”

Rick half nodded. “Yeah—”

“Bad?” Daryl asked again.

Rick nodded again. “Yeah—” he said. “It—uh—it’s been a while. I—I went a bit wild.” Taking the smoke between his two fingers, Rick bowed his hand and looked at the burning end, smoke of it this time filling his nostrils.

“It just happened, today,” he continued, his head still bowed, even not knowing why. He felt like he needed to say something… _talk_ , and Daryl had come, offered his cigarette. “I was going to tell him.” Lifting his head, Rick took another drag from the cigarette as he went on. “But wanted to wait for the right time. Wanted to be sure, didn’t want to fuck it up. Things happened. Everything…” He shook his head. “We—we were going to wait until we found a safe place again and—talk…” He paused, and repeated, “but it just happened.”

In silence, Daryl nodded. Rick took another drag from the cigarette.

“Uh—frankly, man, I thought you were already doing it—”.

Rick raised his eyes up to look at his friend, letting out a low laugh. “No. We weren’t doing it.”

Daryl shrugged with one shoulder in that devil-may-care attitude, then looked him in the eyes. “Still different, huh?” the hunter asked.

Taking another drag from the cigarette, another deep one, Rick admitted to his friend, “It is. She _is_ —she’s different.”

Daryl nodded, looking solemn. “I—uh—I ain’t thinking kid opposes the idea—”

Rick let out a bitter laugh at that. “Ya sure?”

“Nah…” Daryl said, shaking his head. “He’s mad. He thinks you still think of him as a boy.”

“He’s _still_ my child,” Rick said with a frown. He might be fourteen, or he might be forty. That would never change anything in the heart of things. Carl was _always_ going to be his boy.

“I know—” Daryl confirmed, too. “But he’s—well, growing up, I guess.” He shrugged. “He’ll come around. Besides as stepmothers may go—” he went on coolly. “Shepherd would make a damn cool one, man.”

Rick stared at the man. “You really think that?”

Daryl eased off a nod. “Yeah, ‘s good. She cares, good with your kids, very pretty, and damn good with killing walkers…” They both smiled at that silently. “What man could ask for more, huh?” His friend bobbed his head at him. “I’m glad, man. You earned it.”

Rick took another puff from the cigarette, threw the butt on the ground, and stubbed it out under his heel. “What about you, Daryl?” he asked as he swept his boot over the foliage to make sure there were no embers left from the butt. “You earned it, too.”

Daryl shook his head. “Nah…I ain’t cut out for that.”

Rick shrugged. “Well, that was what Amanda told me first, too, but look what we’re talking about now.”

Daryl gave him a look, then shrugged. Rick didn’t press further even though he would like for Daryl to find someone to care about—differently. His friend had earned it, too. They all earned it, perhaps, like Glenn and Maggie. It was difficult to be alone in a world like this. Rick—he’d never blamed Lori and Shane… He—he understood even though it hurt—even though he wanted to break his jaw, made him choke on his teeth, he still understood.

It was—it was hard to be alone. Even bastard assholes like Gorman felt it, the need for a soothing presence of a warm, gentle body they would protect and cherish, keep in their arms, keep safe. A man…a man sometimes just needed a woman. It might not be enough, but Rick felt it, too, wanted to see her…naked, lowering her barriers…in his arms.

Daryl left with a half nod. Rick still stayed outside, giving space to both his son and Amanda. They had to cool down, all of them…they had to cool off, then they would sit down and talk. They had to do it. They _were_ going to do it. Rick was adamant on it. He wasn’t going to have things like _this_. He—he wanted Amanda…in his life. Carl was going to have to accept it.

Moreover, there was another point both his son and Daryl were right about. Perhaps Carl didn’t need a mommy, but Judith did. Rick would keep his baby girl safe and alive, but Judith _still_ needed a Mommy. He—he hadn’t been thinking on it, not at least on a conscious level, but as the cat got out of the bag, so to speak. Rick just couldn’t close his eyes to it anymore…

Amanda—she really cared for Judith and Carl. She loved kids, enjoyed their company, and protected them fiercely. Suddenly Rick remembered Lizzie, and the thought incited a deep regret in him, and shame—for not trying more—for not trying _harder_ —for failing her…

An hour or so after the sun set, in the gloomy darkness as the moon started rising, Amanda finally came to find him. “Hey—” she greeted him as Rick was sitting on the earth now, his back propped against the wooden logs.

He lifted his head and greeted her back. “Hey.”

She gulped lowly. Rick could still see in the faded moonlight. “Carl—uh—he’s sleeping…or faking it, at least…” she said quietly. “Still with Judith in the bedroom.” She paused. “You can come in now.”

Staring at her, Rick patted on the dirt beside him. “I will—come sit down with me a bit first.”

She looked hesitant first, then gave a little nod. Rick was almost surprised that she’d come to ask him, hadn’t sent Beth or Noah, and he liked it. Liked that she wasn’t running away from him. He turned to her. “Amanda, I’m sorry you had to listen to that—” he started, but shaking her head, she stopped him.

“No. No—” she bowed her head. “No. I—It was my fault. I shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have provoked you like that, insisted on having sex.” She swallowed, and Rick heard her voice break. “We—we should’ve waited like you said.”

Reaching out, Rick touched her chin and lifted it to make her look at him. “Yeah, maybe it was a bad idea, but _I_ did want it, too, Amanda. We both did.” He paused for a second, staring at her. “And I still don’t regret it,” he went on. “I don’t regret anything that happened with you.”

As her eyes got moist, glistening with unshed tears, Rick thought again how beautiful she was—and the need was so strong in him again, the way she made him feel— _alive_ …not just flesh and blood, but truly alive… “But—but Carl—” she whispered. “He hates me now.”

He pulled her into his embrace and pressed her against his chest. She came willingly, fitting in his arms nimbly, effortlessly as if she were made for him. It felt exactly like that again, too, like when he’d kissed her the first time. She was made for it—for his arms. He tilted his head down and lightly kissed the top of her head. He loved the sensation of it…and having the _right_ of doing it.

She shivered in response and melted further in his embrace. “He’ll come around—” he assured her with Daryl’s words, hoping the hunter was right, but Rick just couldn’t tell her anything else right now. It was his job, soothing her, keeping her happy. Rick wanted to do it, too, as bad as he wanted to have her squirming under him… “He’s just mad at me. He likes you,” he continued and smiled at her as she craned her neck up. “In fact, I think, he’s gonna like you even more than he likes me.”

That earned him a half smile, but she shook her head. “No. He likes you, too.”

“Nah…I’m just his screw up dad—” The words were still with him, even though Rick had been trying to silence them— _you pushed her away, then you let her die—_ He saw questions in Amanda’s eyes, but the next second she rested her head back against his chest.

“You’re a great dad, Rick. If only every child would be lucky to have a father like you—” she whispered, and something pinched in his chest… “I—I wasn’t trying to do anything…” she continued a second after. “I wasn’t trying—you know…” She cleared her throat, lifting her head up so she could look at him again. “I—I really like your kids. I—I—wasn’t...” she faltered.

Rick shook his head quickly. “I know.” He knew. He knew she hadn’t been trying to make herself more appealing to him by taking care of Judith and Carl. Amanda was a sly woman, but she would never use children that way… And the thought suddenly was with him, catching him unguarded as he realized how much a good mother she would truly make, and Rick wondered… “Amanda, how old are you?”

“Wh—what?” she roughed out, surprise shining in the depth of green of her eyes as she looked at him.

Rick shrugged. “I—I just realized I don’t know how old you are—” he mumbled out.

She gave him a half smile. “Feeling old?” she asked, rising her hand over his beard. Her fingertips brushed a silky touch over his rough skin that sent a shiver down along his spine.

“Well—not old,” Rick countered, turning his neck in a slight angle to give a light kiss to her fingers. “I’m closing in on my forties, finishing my thirty-ninth year,” he answered. “You?” She looked like she was in her early thirties or late twenties, but Rick still wondered—

“I was twenty-eight when the world ended—” she said, lowering her hand. “I should be around thirty now.” She shook her head, wandering her eyes around. “A way to begin your old days, huh?”

“You’re still very young—”

She smiled at him again. “Forty isn’t that old, Rick.”

Rick smiled back at her. “I’m gonna ask you _that_ a decade later—"

Her cheeks blushed fiercely after his last comment, a decade later… _together_ … He bowed his head and rested his forehead over hers gently. “Stay with me tonight—” he whispered. “I want to sleep with you.”

She took in a hitch breath, trembling. “Rick—” she muttered. “Carl—if…if he sees us…”

Rick shook his head. “You said he’s sleeping,” he told her. “And—he—he needs to accept this, Amanda. He _needs to._ ”

“He needs time.”

 _There’s no time…_ rang in his mind, but he squeezed his arms around her. “I want you in my arms—” he whispered to her again. Sometimes a man just needed a woman… just like Rick needed her tonight in his arms… Not for sex, but just to sleep, sheltering her in his embrace against the ugliness of the world outside.

“I—I can stay until dawn,” she breathed out, lifting her gaze up at him. “Then I—I’ll slip away and go lay beside Beth, okay?”

Rick laughed softly. “We—we’re the ones who are supposed to be adults, right?”

She smiled again, and without a word further, Rick only kissed her.

# # #

It was even better than what Amanda had imagined—what she had dreamed.

They were in the deep shadows in the farthest corner of the cabin—away from the others as everyone went to sleep before the moon rose higher in the sky. They went to sleep very early in the evenings these days, with almost nothing to do at night, but woke up early to take advantage of the sunlight.

Amanda thought she really could pass her nights like this—between his arms. Her lips curved as warmness, a curious sense of contentment spread over her body, and she didn’t even stop this time to think—wonder about it. She just enjoyed it—enjoyed the moment, the feel of his arms around her body as he spooned her closely, theirs hands linked with each other across her stomach. It was so intimate, yet she still felt no disturbance in her, only a soothing calmness, like a peace had set in her. With her smile growing fully, Amanda closed her eyes. It was so good…so good…so satisfying, almost as good as having an orgasm…perhaps in a way even more pleasant… She—she’d always hated this kind of stuff before, had always refused—had always…been scared… but Rick…Rick was different.

She—she could trust him. She _trusted_ him. The knowledge—it was in her, too, lighting her up. She felt it in her very cells, utterly bashing in the sentiment, her whole being singing with it… She wondered if it was what people kept rambling on… _love_ … The thought…it ought to terrorize her—should make her a ball of strained nerves, but at the moment she didn’t care… They were going to find out. Together. But tonight, she was just going to lie in his arms and sleep…

She clenched her fingers around his and pulled his arms closer around her. Getting her message, Rick tightened his grip, and it felt even better. She twisted her neck, and smiling at him over her shoulder, she whispered. “Goodnight, Rick.”

He angled his head down at her and kissed the tip of her nose. “Goodnight, baby—”

Twisting back to face ahead, Amanda kept smiling.

# # #

Before the moon was high in the sky, Carl woke up.

The cabin was in deep silence. He could feel it, nothing breaking it, aside from a few light snores.

Everyone was asleep now—even Daryl who usually had the night watch, propping himself against the window, staying up like a gargoyle, but even he was resting against the wall now, his eyes closed. Perhaps everyone just needed sleep tonight.

The teenager wondered why, but instead of thinking of it, he chose to dwell on staying quiet, carefully stepping in the crowded room. At one corner, Beth and Joan were sleeping. Beside them, Daryl was propped against the window protectively. Noah was at the corner across from them, and the teenager turned around and saw them—

Carl stopped.

They were in each other’s arms, their hands tangled together across her stomach as his father’s arms kept her in a tight embrace. The female officer’s face was split with a smile as his father’s chin rested over the crook of her shoulder—

And they seemed to be in a deep slumber as if…as if…as if there was nothing wrong in the world—as if…as if they could be still normal!

The teenager felt…angry…even more than before…a level of anger he had never felt before.

They weren’t supposed to be like this! When everything was this dark, this foul, this…bleak, they shouldn’t have looked this…peaceful!

It was wrong.

_Wrong._

Carl felt the fury again—wanted to slap his father—wanted to scream at him how he could do it? His mother—his mother had died _just_ a few months ago and they—they’d lost everything again. _Everything!_

They—they shouldn’t have looked this!

They were fools! They were morons! Being like this at the end of everything! He—he was standing a few feet away from them, staring at them for minutes, and neither had even stirred in sleep. They just kept sleeping peacefully…

He felt the anger sweeping over him completely… and _He_ had called him— _a child!_

He was going to show _him_! Show _him_ who was being childish!

 _He_ was going to see.

He was going to show _him_.

The teenager turned around, and like a ghost, he slipped out of the cabin.

 _He_ was going to see.

# # #

Something in him tingled like an alarm set off, and Daryl jolted, and realized…realized he’d fallen asleep.

The stupidest Dixon who had ever lived…

The realization was like a blow to his stomach, falling asleep on watch. He tried to write it off as the fatigue of the days they’d endured since the prison, their home fallen…but he still knew it wasn’t just that. Something with the talk he’d shared with Rick irked him, and the hunter wasn’t sure if he liked it. _You earned it, too,_ the man had said—and Daryl had thought…of possibilities.

 _Of what?_ he snickered inside. He killed them all. No. He was already enough of a sucker as it was.

So, perked up from beneath the window, he listened to the sounds of the night instead, the sounds of the woods outside, and the light snores inside the cabin as he tried to figure out what had set him off.

He stood up, and on the prowl, starting making a round. His eyes first fell on the women who were sleeping a few feet away from him. Beth was rested against the wall, behind the dark-haired woman whose hand stayed close to her gun where she’d placed it beside her head. Daryl—felt…a pinch in his chest. He didn’t know exactly, but he had heard her story from others after they came back from Grady. Daryl could still remember the glimpses of her wrist, seeing the fading bruises over her skin under her shirt’s cuff while she was trying to keep the officer alive after arriving at the prison.

That bastard had found Rick and the others this morning before their arrival, he’d heard, too. He supposed that was also the reason why the woman was laying now with her hand inched toward the gun, even in sleep. A good habit these days, nevertheless.

He checked on the girls next, making sure they were all okay and walked across the room to see the lanky boy was also alright. He was folded in two on the ground, but okay. He was a very courageous young man, and the hunter was amazed at what they’d accomplished as they’d managed to run away from that fucking place with a downed officer at the edge of death. Daryl continued his round—and then halting in his tracks—he stared…

 _You earned it, man…_ His words echoed in his mind, and his friend had earned it, he really had—and Daryl was happy to see the man like that; a serenity and contentment over his features as he rested one side of his face over the officer’s shoulder, holding her tightly as they both slept peacefully.

The female officer looked the same as well, a big, content smile spread over her face as she breathed languorously—and for a second—the hunter wondered—wondered…how it would really feel…

He swallowed, shooing the thought away and went to check the kids. On the low bed, Mika and Judy were sleeping, but the place where the boy had been was empty—

Daryl stiffened and muttered, _“Shit!”_

# # #

The surly man had curly pepper-and-salt hair with a leather vest he wore over his shirt, like his hunter friend did, and he had the same swagger as well, but Carl aimed his gun higher.

Carl wasn’t stupid. The man threw him a crooked smile and carefully studied his friends. He counted five of them, all having the same rough, hardened looks of Daryl, but he couldn’t see the same kindness in their eyes. “Don’t come closer—” he warned. “My friends are close. You better leave.”

Their leader’s smile grew wider, and they all laughter together. Carl thought of killing him, but then looked at his companions. He suddenly wished he hadn’t left the cabin, but crushed the thought quickly.

He _wasn’t_ a child. He could do it. He raised his arm a bit higher. “I know how to shoot,” he remarked and liked how cool his voice sounded. They were looking at him differently now, and their leader had stopped laughing.

“Do you, boy?” the man asked with a similar rough drawl to Daryl’s.

He shook his head, trying to mimic it. “I ain’t no boy.”

He _was_ a man.

 _They_ all could see. But the leader gave out another laugh at that. “You got balls, boy, that’s sure,” the man said, almost conversationally as his companions laughed with him again, sharing looks with each other. “In all honesty, boy, we were looking for the assholes who killed our friends today in the woods. Two people, we think. We tracked their trails around here,” he continued, and Carl listened. They weren’t making any sense to him, but he wasn’t going to tell the man that. “You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?” the leader asked, sounding almost kind.

Carl shook his head. “No. I’m sorry to hear about your friends,” he replied, his gun still raised. “The woods are dangerous.”

The man nodded, walking closer to him. “Aye—we thought we found them when we caught your tracks—but it couldn’t be you, right?” He stopped in front of him, looking down at him as Carl stared at him, didn’t run his eyes away. He—he wasn’t afraid…he shouldn’t be afraid… “How old are you, boy?”

“Almost fifteen—” he almost spat the words. “And I’m not a boy, but a man—” he repeated, stressing the word.

The man smiled at him again, completely ignoring the gun in his hand, standing a few steps away from him. His friends got closer, too, then he sat down on the log Carl had settled himself on before they found him. “Got yourself a woman then, eh?” the man asked, lifting his head. “Fucked her brains out?”

Carl almost blushed, the words making him remember the way he’d caught _them_ —his father, his hand over her mouth, his other hand holding hers above them as he hit her madly with his whole body, almost…like…like he was angry as the officer…held his father’s hips….funnily between her knees. He had no idea how it was even possible…and he didn’t know how to read the expression on the part of her face that wasn’t covered with his father’s hand. She—she looked…like she was in pain, her features twisted as if she would’ve been screaming if his father wasn’t covering her mouth…

Carl—he wasn’t a boy. He knew what sex was, what _fucking_ was. He even saw a movie secretly once with a friend in the summer before his father got shot, before their world turned upside down. But it—it wasn’t like that. The couple there—they—they weren’t doing it like _that_. The man there was over a blond woman moving against her rhythmically, grunting, while the woman was deeply moaning like—like Carl used to hear sometimes how his mother moaned in their room in the night when he couldn’t sleep….

Suddenly disturbed again with the thought, he made all scenes go away. He didn’t want to think of it. He didn’t want to— He shook his head.

Sometimes…he used to wish…he had…someone, too… He—he used to dream… the way Beth smiled at him and dream himself with her, taking care of her like his father was supposed to with his mother—

Then his mother had died, and Carl had stopped dreaming.

He dropped his arm down. “No.”

The man shook his head. “That’s sad, boy,” he drawled out. “How much of a man can you be without ever feeling a woman’s tight pussy?”

Heat returned to him as Carl pressed the urge of blushing again. The man laughed, looking at him. “Man, I was thirteen or something—I think… my first time. Her name was…Mary,” the man started retelling.

“She—she was the wife of our neighbor in our caravan parking—” he went on. “A fading beauty, but still so fierce. Fucked me so hard in their old RV I thought I died and went to heaven—” He laughed, his friends again following his lead again. Carl just stared…

“We should find a good one for you, boy,” the man remarked, his eyes returning to him where he still stood a few steps away from him. “Make you a real man,” he said, raising a fisted hand over his stomach as something boosted in his voice. “I’m Joe—” He pointed at himself, walking closer, “and these are my friends—”

Then he stopped as _He_ suddenly walked out of the woods, his new girlfriend and Beth—Beth of all people at his heels, their guns directed at the crew.

“ _Let him go,_ ” his father rasped, advancing closer, his stark, stern blue eyes fixed at his…new friend, a new gun he’d found somewhere trained on Joe. Carl almost sighed.

It was _always_ the same. “Carl, come here,” his father ordered flatly, but Joe stood up, raising his hands up in the air.

“Easy, man. We mean no harm,” then he stopped again, looking at the gun in his father’s hands. “Now where did you find that gun, old sport?” Joe questioned, but Carl couldn’t wonder about it more, because suddenly a hand roughly pulled at him, and an arm coiled around his neck.

Carl tried to raise his hand with the gun, but _his new friend_ had already grabbed it from him and pointed it at his head.

“Oh—boy, you really shouldn’t have lied to me,” Joe said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So--shit is REALLY ready to hit to fan... So I sat down and thought how Joe would've reacted to see Carl in the woods alone--with a gun and all, telling him he's not a boy and all... but things getting bad at the start--I don't know somehow it just didn't sit with me well--Joe wasn't that *bad* first with Daryl--but got absolutely horrendous later on. AND I really wanted to play "I'm not a child" thing, but it was the whole case of Rick and Carl's fight, as Carl is mad because Rick still thinks of him as a child... and I want to delve into it a bit, and with the traditional "a man needs a woman" from Rick's side, basically people needing each other to soothe themselves. 
> 
> Rick is a very traditional guy, too, and Carl also brought the cat out of the bag as well with his mommy comments, Rick understanding--wondering Amanda and motherhood. and I wanted him at this point, as well, at his full force with "protect them at all cost." 
> 
> AND, I wanted to play with Daryl a bit, too--I don't know but I'm starting liking the idea of a thing between Daryl and Joan... I've loved Beth and Daryl together, always, but here they're apart from each other like planets, and Daryl and Joan might be interesting to delve into a bit as I'll play with Carl and Beth a bit, too, platonic again.  
> But needless to say, the next chapter isn't gonna be easy neither of them.
> 
> I'm gonna start the next chapter after Daryl found out Carl had slipped out and came again at the end of this chapter, and will continue. I really hope I'm not screwing up here--do tell me, please! I'm kinda a bit nervous for the next chapter.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we are!  
> I just gonna let out a big breath here--and say good reading.

**XXXIV.**

In his dream, Rick smelled pancakes.

As he walked in the sunlit kitchen, Rick knew this time he was dreaming, and he didn’t mind it. No. No, he did not. Carl was sitting at the kitchen island again, reading his comics book, ignoring everything else in the world. Judith was playing with her stuffed animal in her high-chair, and Amanda…his beautiful…his beautiful…wife…? Was she his wife in the dream?

Rick realized he didn’t mind that, either. He walked to her as she stood in front of the stove, making them pancakes, and wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands linked over her stomach.

She twisted her neck, returning to him with a big smile, and lifted her chin up for a morning kiss, mumbling a good morning… Dutifully, Rick bowed his head and kissed her lips—

A hand shaking his shoulder, Rick woke up in the dark, his eyes joltingopen, and stared at Daryl as the roughish hunter pulled his hand back. Rick pulled his hand away from his hip, the hand that had already crawled toward his holster. No. He wasn’t taking it off now even in sleep.

Rick looked at Daryl, and in less than a second, understood something bad happening _again_.

There was an undeniable urgency in his friend’s gesture, and an undefined look in his clear blue eyes, and the fact that Daryl would’ve never ever woken him up when he was like _this_ if something truly _bad_ wasn’t happening. Not when Rick slept with a woman next to him for the first time in a long time.

The woman in question, sensing the intruder, tensed up, too, her own hand reaching for her gun she’d put beside her, too, but noticing Daryl, she stopped. Angling his eyes downward, Rick saw her green eyes were wide open as well as she stared at the tracker.

She didn’t make a word, but Rick felt her sliding back an inch closer to his chest as he lifted his head up to look at his friend. “What is it?”

A look first, then Daryl answered. “Carl—He’s gone.”

# # #

As soon as the words left Daryl’s mouth, Amanda closed her eyes as Rick jumped to his feet. “Gone—” he almost shouted. “Gone?” he repeated.

Daryl nodded.

Drawing up, Amanda started getting up, too. It didn’t make sense, but the word itself slipped inside her, sending a surge of guilt through her again nevertheless… Gone… Gone… But where? How? The questions were spinning in her mind rapidly all the while guilt started gnawing at her insides. They shouldn’t have done this—as Rick looked like he was about to lose his shit again.

“Where?” Rick asked what she’d asked herself in a stupor, too, his voice edging. He shook his head, looking at the door, anger finding him, Amanda knew— “ _Goddammit!”_ he rasped out in an angry hiss, running to check the bedroom.

His son had sneaked away— _away from him…away from them._

They—they should’ve just waited.

They should’ve talked with Carl first.

They should’ve given the boy time. He needed time. Amanda _knew_ it.

They—she should’ve done this differently. Maybe if she made Beth talk with Carl first, like the girl had done with her, tell Carl about Maggie and her mother, her own experience, maybe Carl would’ve taken it better…wouldn’t have sneaked away like he’d done. Amanda would’ve talked to him, too, tried to make him understand… a part of growing up was to accept things you weren’t happy with.—She—she would’ve made the boy see that, made him make his own peace with it, just like Amanda was trying to make her own peace with Rick’s ongoing feelings for his wife…

But Amanda hadn’t sneaked out in the night away from Rick—even though temptations had been great lately… How could Carl have been this stupid?

But she shouldn’t ask that. The boy was a teenager! It was in his rights to be childish! _They_ had to deal with it. It was their responsibility. They were supposed to be the adults here.

The others woke up as well, hearing the noise. First came Beth, following her was Joan, looking at them wildly. Noah came last from the other side of the room. Judith and Mika were still sleeping in the bedroom as Rick came out.

She turned to Rick. “Rick—”

He cut her off, taking Lizzie’s gun out to check bullets, his hands almost shaking again, but for a second Amanda wasn’t sure if it was because of anger or worry. Perhaps both. “I’m going out—” He turned to her. “Where’s the gun you took from that man today?” he asked her. “I’m almost out of bullets.”

She turned aside and took the gun she’d placed beside her head. Hers was almost done, too, and Rick’s Colt Python had been out of rounds since the prison’s fall. They were pathetically outgunned. He couldn’t go in the woods in the dark like this.

But Carl did, so that left a little room to discussion. “I’m coming, too—” she said, picking up his suede jacket she’d taken off before they laid down to sleep, but Rick shook his head.

“No—” He objected. “No—no… You stay,” he told her, his voice agitated and frustrated, and everything else. “I’ll go with Daryl.”

The hunter nodded merely, but Amanda objected vehemently. “No! I’m coming!”

This was her mess, too. She had to come. If something happened—if something… She shook her head, refusing to complete the thought. No. Nothing would happen to Carl. Nothing was going to happen to anyone. They would find Carl, come back, and in the morning, they would start looking for that Sanctuary again, to find Maggie and Glenn!

Their story was going to have a happy ending this time! “Rick—” She walked closer to him. He had to understand. “I have to come. Please. It’s my fa—”

Rick cut her off. “No,” he told her adamantly, his voice flat and firm. “This isn’t anything about you, Amanda—” His eyes nailed hers. “This _is_ between me and my son. I’ll handle it. But first I gotta find him.”

She swallowed. “Daryl—” she said, trying a different approach to make him accept to take her with him. Perhaps he was right. This wasn’t directly about her and what they had, but she—she still felt…responsible. _She_ was the one who he’d fucked against that tree, not someone else. “Judith and Mika need him here,” she went on.

“When he left, we stayed together. If you both leave, I’ll stay alone with Joan and Beth. When Daryl left, you wanted me with you, Rick,” she reminded him. “I—I can’t do this alone. Neither Beth nor Joan is ready yet. If I stay, I need you to stay with me, too,” she bluffed, but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. Amanda was still quasi useless in the woods, and they both knew it. “Or we both go out—” she pressed. “Daryl stays with kids. We take Joan, too—”

But before Rick could say anything, Beth interrupted her. “No!” the teenager cried out fiercely, shaking her head. “No. Joan stays. I come with you this time. It’s my turn!”

All heads in the room turned to her, surprised by—the demand. Amanda looked at the girl, and started to speak. “Beth—”

“No—” Beth cut in again, still shaking her head fiercely. “We need each other. You said it yourself, Amanda. You said my time would come too. And it has. Joan is your most experienced rookie,” she explained, calming her voice a bit as if to lay down her reasoning. Quelling the protective streak in her, Amanda started listening more carefully. “If you go out with Rick, then she’s gotta stay with Daryl. Daryl also needs someone to cover his back. You paired them up before as we came here. So, she stays with Daryl, and Noah, too, and I go out with you.”

Amanda let out a sigh. She saw the reasoning, she did, but—but…She didn’t know. She—Grady was still so fresh in her mind. “Beth—” Amanda said after a pause. “It’s dangerous.”

“I _know_ —” the girl said in return, not moving an inch. “But I’m willing to take the risk.” She turned to Rick, too. “Carl—he’s my friend. We cover each other’s back, don’t we?”

Rick gave a look at the teenager before nodding. “Okay. If it’s what you want,” he told her. “But you’ll listen to us, Beth,” he warned further as Beth eagerly nodded. “You won’t do anything stupid.”

Beth gave another quick nod. “I won’t even take a breath if you tell me to stop it.”

Amanda almost smiled at the teenager as Rick turned to her. “We gotta go. I think he’ll try to make it to the tracks—make it to Terminus before us.”

Amanda shifted her attention to him from Beth. “What?” she asked, starting to put on his jacket as Beth began preparing as well. “Why?”

“Because I know my son,” Rick answered. “He didn’t run away from me. He just sneaked out to prove himself to _me_.” He paused, letting a sigh. “Because I called him a child.”

The anger in his voice was fading, so the guilt was there now, Amanda sensed it—but a second later, his expression stiffened again. Rick gestured at them. “You ready?”

Both she and Beth nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay—” Rick turned to Daryl. “Listen—uh, we encountered two men in the woods when we went out today. Things went bad—had to kill ‘em. I was gonna tell you, but things happened.” He made a gesture with his head again. “They might have friends around. We don’t know. Better to keep an eye open,” he told their remaining numbers, shifting his eyes between Daryl and Joan. “I—I don’t like tonight. Feels like it’s gonna be one of those nights.”

Vague as it was, all of them understood what Rick meant. Daryl nodded simply. “’kay, man—”His face hardened, too. “I ain’t gonna sleep again.”

Rick gave the other man a brief look, but only nodded, “Be careful—” His eyes moved over them again. “We’ll come back.”

Without another word, he walked out of the cabin. Beth looked at her. Amanda raised her hand toward the girl. “After you.”

# # #

The anger and worry was the worst cocktail of emotions a person could feel, a mixture of worry for his son’s well-being and anger at his stupidity.

 _Goddammit, Carl!_ He screamed inside as he stayed crouched over the earth at the tree line, trying to pick up a track of him before he dived in the woods, a stone settling deep in his stomach.

It was dark. They could barely see anything in the pale moonlight. They had no flashlight, which made things a lot harder.

Amanda and Beth were on either side of him, and the unnerving dissatisfaction that he’d brought them out in the open woods in middle of the night was there together with the heavy stony feeling in his stomach, but both of them were right. Rick couldn’t do this alone. He needed someone to watch his back, and Beth’s time had come.

They weren’t children anymore. He knew that—even though they acted like kids!

Sneaking away in the middle of the night…

What the hell had Carl been thinking?

What the hell?!

Had he really raised his son to be this self-centered? Putting others into jeopardy without any sense or thought? Just because he was mad and wanted to prove himself to him?

The bitter feeling of failure was with him again alongside the anger and worry…He was failing again, perhaps in the worst way, too. If something happened tonight—something happened to Carl tonight—

Rick stopped the thought.

Nothing was going to happen to his boy!

_Nothing!_

Rick was going to find him.

He was going to find him—yell at him—roost him—even find a few wild pigs in the woods and make him feed them again, but nothing was going to happen to his boy!

Not as long as there was still breath left in his lungs.

Never!

Rick was going to protect his kids until his last breath. He’d swear on it…he had…

He swore—His eyes flickering upward for a second and found Amanda. This wasn’t about Amanda. _No_. Amanda had just become an outlet for Carl’s anger towards _him_ , but that thing had been boiling underneath the surface between them for months now.

But she still blamed herself, Rick also knew, because he knew her, too. He wasn’t going to let her do it. Rick wasn’t going to let her beat herself up about it. He wanted her to be like she was in his arms tonight, soothed, calmed down, at peace…not like _this_.

None of them were supposed to be like this!

His jaw squared too hard, grinding his teeth together, that he thought for a second, he broke it. He needed to put an end to all of this. He needed to find that Terminus, a roof over their heads, somewhere they all could be safe again and put it back together. He needed to. He could not fail again.

He was _not_ going to fail again.

It was his job…his duty. Beth and Carl were supposed to sleep in their own corners now and Amanda in his arms where he wanted her tonight—each night—he wanted _it_! He wanted something like his dream. It wasn’t a crime…

 _No more kid stuff—_ Rick remembered his words in the hayloft. He almost shook his head, feeling the anger, frustration, and worry all at the same time. No more kid stuff… _Why, Carl, why?_ he asked again in his mind. Had he _really_ taught nothing to his son? Failed him like this too?

“Daryl said the tracks were on the west side,” Amanda remarked in a whisper, keeping her voice low in the dark as she leaned over his shoulder to check the ground. “I think we just have to walk toward that direction,” she commented. “We can barely see anything.”

Raising his head, Rick nodded briskly and turned his gaze away. “Yeah—” He stood up. “Let’s go.”

Before he turned to the west, Amanda’s fingers touched his and stopped him. “Rick—we’ll find him—” she whispered, holding his hand. “We will.”

Lowering his head, Rick nodded. “Yeah, but none of us should be out now, Amanda,” he told her. “Carl should’ve known that.”

“We all made stupid mistakes at his age,” she said. “Don’t be hard on him. Don’t be hard on yourself.”

Rick shook his head. He—he couldn’t make up excuses for his son… They—they didn’t have that luxury now! “You know we don’t have the luxury of making stupid mistakes anymore!” he hissed out angrily, turning to take point.

Carl just should’ve known that, too!

Later, he told himself, berating himself with Amanda’s words from the attack. All of them were problems for later. They—he would deal with this, but he needed to find his son first, had to keep him safe. It was his job, always his job. Monsters were always out there…always an inch away from them. He remembered the men they’d encountered today and tried not to think what if they were other people—other people who didn’t know how to protect themselves, or what if they were outnumbered or outgunned—

What Rick would do then? How could he save Amanda from those two perverted bastards? How could he have saved _himself_? He had to live, had to survive for them…He had to stay alive so he could keep them alive and safe. It was that simple now. But what if he couldn’t…?

He'd almost died last night. The thought still gave him nightmares, living them alone in a world like this—alone—being preyed upon by monsters…

No! Never!

He did what he had to and stayed alive. Kept them alive. “Be careful—” he repeated, turning toward them, his voice barely a rough whisper, but loaded with things he couldn’t put into the words, his feelings torn in between the need to keep them alive and the need for them to keep _him_ alive. “Stay close and keep your eyes open.”

 _We keep each other safe,_ Amanda’s words echoed through his mind, _we protect each other’s back…_ It might be true, yes, Beth and Amanda both were protecting his back now, keeping his ass secure, but Rick _really_ wasn’t liking it—not a bit…

 _Carl—_ he almost sighed again… _What did you do, son?_

Then Rick heard _it_ —close to the tracks—beside a little clearing he could barely see in the dark—small, faint mutters—like a wind coursing through dry leaves, but it was no wind.

It was people, talking to each other.

Rick raised his hand up in the air, making it a fist, halting the girls behind him. In silence, he listened… No. He—he had to get closer. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything but only faint mutters—

He twisted aside, gestured for Amanda and Beth to follow him as they both took out their guns like Rick had already done. They started carefully treading towards the little clearing beside the railway, their steps wary, their bodies alert. Rick heard the murmurs better as they approached, and soon recognized one of them clear enough.

_CARL!_

He hastened his steps almost to a run, thoughts or precautions barely registering in his mind… His son in the woods alone. He was out there—with other men—and nothing else mattered more than that!

He _had to_ know. He had to get him.

“ _Rick_!” Amanda hissed behind him, but Rick didn’t stop.

He—he had to get his son back.

There he sat—on a log with a roguish man in his late fifties, salt-and-pepper curls licking the nape of his neck—a leather vest over his black embroidered shirt. More importantly, a rifle was draped over the man’s shoulder.

There were other men, as well—five of them, all of them armed heavily with guns. They all seemed to like laughing silently, but something made his skin crawl the way they did. Two of them leaned against an old abandoned blue car beside the log as the others stood a few steps behind them in a half arc as the man sat down with Carl on the log.

It almost seemed…peaceful, aside from that disturbed feeling deep in his stomach, and with their smiles, and the guns. Something was off. The men, the way they carried themselves—it reminded Rick…reminded him—Then he knew.

They weren’t wrong assuming that the two sonofabitches might have friends in the woods. He darted a glance back, checking on Amanda. Her eyes were widened, staring ahead at the scene. Rick saw worry in the depths of her green eyes and knew she’d realized it as well.

He had to do something. It seemed peaceful now, but Rick still had to do something.

Six men heavily armed in the middle of the woods in a clearing beside the railway. There was nowhere to set up an ambush, and they had nothing to set up a trap—nothing to do anything.

They only had a few guns, a few bullets, but the man also had his son. Rick didn’t have any choice.

No choice at all. He turned aside toward the girls. “Stay here,” he rasped in a whisper, but Amanda clawed at his elbow, understanding what was going to happen.

“No!” she cried out in an agitated whisper. “No. Rick!” She came even closer. “We’re outnumbered, outgunned.”

“I’ve got no choice—” he told her in the same whisper. “I’ll have the element of surprise.”

“It won’t make a difference against six men! Don’t be absurd!” she countered quickly, their hushed whispers like wind through the leaves. “They don’t seem hostile. If we go in guns blazing, we’re done.” Beth gave her a look at the same time as him. Amanda quickly continued. “We go in, talk with them, and take Carl out.”

“Talk with them?” Rick almost shouted, barely keeping his voice in whisper. “Amanda—don’t you remember what happened today?” He shook his head. “I go in, kill the bastard next to Carl—”

“And then—” she cut him off, “They kill you—” His jaw clenched. Amanda took another step closer, touched his cheek with her free hand. “Rick, baby, you can’t protect us if you’re dead.”

Always leave it to Amanda Shepherd to snap the hard-cold facts in his face. Though, he guessed she’d softened the blow this time with a soft voice and a caress, calling him _baby_ …

It was the first time Rick had ever heard her utter that word before, and despite everything, he liked it. It suited her…this softness, it suited her as much as her quills. But his son was still out there.

“They have Carl,” Rick whispered, her hand still over his cheek. “I’ve got no choice.”

“Can—can we go back and get Daryl and Joan?” Beth offered, getting between them. Amanda lowered her hand and turned to her. “We could at least even the numbers a bit.”

Amanda nodded. “Yeah, but—”

“We’re almost an hour out now,” Rick talked in her stead, declining it. “We can’t go back and come again. It’s too dangerous. We have to act now.”

“All right—” Amanda drawled out. “We do it in my way then—”

“Amanda—”

“Rick—” she cut him off again. “You’ve always been a talker before!” she chided him in a hushed voice, staring at him in the eye. “Guns blazing isn’t your style—”

“And look at where we are now—” Rick reminded her of her own words from that damn fight. “I’m done with trying to talk to sonofabitches.”

“We don’t know for sure if they’re the _same_ sonofabitches,” Amanda pointed out. “Maybe they’re different people—” She gestured with her head. “They’re just talking, Rick. We don’t know.”

“I agree—” Beth said, “If we’re going in hot—” the younger girl continued where Amanda had left, even using tactical combat words, and Rick realized Amanda wasn’t just _playing_ with her pupils. “We also put Carl at risk, right?” she asked, her wide blue eyes going between them. “Amanda told us we have to be smart in every scenario. And I don’t believe going there shooting is smart.”

Amanda nodded. “She’s got a point.”

“Fine—” he nodded at them. “We wait for an opportunity,” he went on, trying to come up with a plan. “If some of them walk away, and we manage to take hostages, we could exchange them for Carl—” They needed something that would have a better chance against guns blazing or just _talking_ , then loud laughter suddenly cracked in the air.

Rick heard a grumble first, and a deep, baritone voice faintly coming toward them as he overheard;

“That’s sad, boy—” Rick heard a heavy drawl in the deep grumble… “How much of a man can you be without ever testing a woman’s tight pussy?” the voice asked, and Rick felt made of stone.

The wrong feeling tingled all over him as Beth flushed red, quickly bowing her head. Amanda closed her eyes as well as the brute remark turned in his mind, the tingling biting at him. It was wrong—he knew it, felt it deep in his bones. He needed to get his son away from those sonofabitches!

_NOW!_

He couldn’t wait. He drew the gun and started walking to the clearing— “Rick! Rick!” Amanda hissed behind him again… “Goddammit!”

“Stay here—” he ordered, turning aside as they both followed him quickly.

“Yeah—” she hissed at him back. “Like it’s gonna happen.”

If only they had time… but there was no time. There was _never_ time, but he couldn’t fail this time.

He had to take his son back. The words, the men, their body language, the other two sonofabitches… No. He had to save his son before it was too late again. He was sensing it—trouble. Rick knew Amanda was sensing it, as well, despite her words, and despite her words, she was still following him.

It was still wrong, too... Rick had to keep them safe, had to guard their backs, not the other way around…but everything was wrong in this world— _everything_. Rick only wanted to make it right again.

He walked out to the clearing, silent as a ghost, the gun raised in his hand, already pointed at the man’s head. Rick stared at the man sitting beside Carl as his son stared back at him, shocked to see him, but Rick didn’t even move an inch. “ _Let him go,_ ” he ordered flatly, then gestured with his head quickly. “Carl, come here.”

The man stood up, raising his hands up in the air as his own men drew up, alert. Rick could see their eyes following Beth and Amanda closely, too damn closely… He ran his hand higher.

“Easy, man,” their leader drawled out, looking only at Rick. “We mean no harm,” he stated, and Rick thought for a second, hoped…maybe, perhaps, perchance they could just go away peacefully, just turn around and walk away, like decent people would do. Amanda was right. It shouldn’t have been that hard, but the next second, the man stopped, his eyes on the gun Rick was holding on him.

The man’s eyes darted up to look at him again. “Now where did you find that gun, old man?” he asked, and before Rick could do anything else, even take a breath, he grabbed Carl and twisted his hand that still held his gun, pointing it at his son’s head.

“Oh—you really shouldn’t have lied to me, boy,” the sonofabitch said with a sigh, and Rick had never wanted to kill anyone so much all in his life before.

# # #

_Oh—you really shouldn’t have lied to me, boy—_

As soon as the words uttered, Amanda knew this was going to end very badly. The man had recognized the gun she’d taken from their attackers.

So, those sonofabitches really had friends, and she had been right, but the knowledge didn’t bring her any comfort.

Rick stared at the man, holding the gun, but shook his head. “He didn’t lie,” he told the man, raising his voice, his tone carrying that firm timbre in it again, the thing that made the man’s back straightened a bit further as well. “He didn’t know anything about the gun.”

The man glanced at Amanda and Beth first, then his gaze returned to Rick, the gun still pointed at Carl’s head. “I assume ya do?” the bastard asked.

“His owner did something he shouldn’t have,” Rick stated, his voice hardening further. “He tried to _claim_ my woman.”

Amanda scowled, her lips turning downward at his chosen vocabulary despite knowing Rick was trying to set up a scene for their sakes. It also looked like it worked as the man nodded at him.

“I see. I suppose it was in your rights to kill him then--” The shouts raised from his own men after that, but the man didn’t even cast a look at them as he shouted. “Len and Harley should’ve known better than to claim an already claimed woman, fellas!” God, too much testosterone, but this time it wasn’t what made her scowl further. “You know the rules.”

She glanced at Beth. She really didn’t like the teenager with these men and with all this claiming talk they were having, like they were _things_ to possess, but still kept her mouth shut. “We want no trouble,” Rick said, as if he was feeling the same. “Send the boy here, and we’ll be gone.”

“Is he your boy?” the man asked, and even from his profile, Amanda saw Rick’ jaw square even further.

“Yes—” he admitted through gritted teeth.

“The boy says he’s a man but never fucked a woman before,” the sonofabitch remarked as if it was funny, laughing. Rick let out a sharp breath. “How’s that happen, man?” he asked Rick. “What kind of a father are you?” he asked, as his people laughed sickly along with him. “Imagine if he died tonight. Your boy would die a virgin then.” The man shook his head. “So sad, man.”

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself—”

“But you see, I’m concerned—” the man countered. “We were getting very friendly until you guys busted in, spoiled our fun… I guess I still feel sad.” He stopped for a second, then half twisted his neck toward his people. “Take the blondie, fellas!”

“NO!” Her voice boomed over Rick’s rough shout as Amanda, grabbing Beth, threw her behind her.

“The first one DARES to touch her, I shoot him in his balls!” she threatened, tilting the gun downward as three men attacked Rick as he lunged toward them.

The two that had been leaning against the car came and made a move toward her at the same time as Rick went down. Amanda tightened her finger on the trigger, but as her eyes caught sight of Carl with the gun still pointed at his head, she…she…hesitated—

The sick bastard was merely looking at her...

In her stupor, a fist collided at her jaw as another hit her side...Amanda saw flashes of metal in the moonlight before she dropped on her hands and knees in pain, hardly breathing… brass knuckles …

They started dragging Beth on the ground by her hair as the teenager started screaming.

Amanda raised her head, tears of pain welling behind her eyes… and…and she watched it…just watched it, too afraid to do anything, her eyes darting between Beth being dragged on the ground and Carl with a gun pointed at his head…

No—No…she—she had to do something! She—she couldn’t watch it again…Not again…God, _not_ again… She couldn’t…

Screams… and laughter… They—they laughed as Beth screamed…

Amanda drew up, raised her leg, but a kick slid her over the ground before she could complete the act, and they tore the gun from her fingers. She lifted her head up and saw Rick on the ground as kicks rained on him. She turned to the man who still held Carl at gun’s point.

“Stop it!” she screamed over Beth’s screams. “We did NOTHING to you! STOP IT!”

The man threw Carl on the ground, keeping his gun. “No—you didn’t,” he admitted. “But you killed my friends. Maybe it was in your man’s rights,” the bastard told her, titling his head at Rick who was still taking kicks at the ground, getting knocked down each time he tried to stand up, and he tried—he tried—many times—It just wasn’t enough... “But it still happened.”

“Don’t worry, though, we won’t kill him,” he assured her, gesturing at Rick. “You didn’t lie. You accepted it, so we won’t touch you two,” he declared and whistled at his people. “That’s enough, fellas.”

The men stopped, and one of them made Rick kneel on the ground. The man came behind his back and leaned over his shoulder, looking ahead where his people dragged Beth over to the car as he pointed his gun against Rick’s head from behind this time.

Amanda followed the man’s gaze, and she saw men forcing Beth against the car’s hood as she tried to fight them off. “NO! NO!” Her high-pitched shouts echoed in the silence of the night. “Leave me alone!”

Rotters? Where were the damn rotters when you needed them? She wouldn’t mind a few rotters joining up with them now!

But no dead or living soul came. They were alone. And the sight enraged her… Amanda jolted up to her feet, running to Beth, but two men closest to her blocked her way. She dodged from the first fist coming at her again, bending down, and caught the other man’s ankle before his kick would find his aim. But as she blocked the second man’s attack, her first attacker came at her again, his fist raised, knuckles armored—flashing—Twisting aside, she freed her left hand, as her right still held the other man’s foot, and tried to catch the incoming fist from her left side…

She did—clawed at the fist, digging her nails in, cutting—but it was…just too much for her at the same time—just too much. The man who had tried to kick her broke free and punched her at her abdomen first, all of her defenses open, and another kick sent her to the ground once more.

They—they—they just couldn’t fight… Amanda felt wetness over her cheeks, hot and hurting, not even from pain anymore…

Then Beth screamed, she screamed, Rick screamed, “LEAVE ‘EM ALONE—”

“I KILLED HIM!” Amanda shouted, turning to the gang leader who was still leaning over Rick’s shoulder, and she wasn’t even looking at Rick anymore—She couldn’t…

“IT WAS ME—” she yelled. “I DID IT. TAKE ME—” she begged, and this time it wasn’t an act, either as she drew up on her knees… “Don’t touch her, please.” She shook her head, her tears running freely as she stared at the man, pleading... “Do whatever you want with me…but don’t touch her, _please_.”

She—she couldn’t see Beth getting raped. She couldn’t…. She couldn’t live through that. She could’ve endured everything, but not that. She couldn’t watch that. Not again…

Suddenly over her eyes, she saw her friend, and the basement, she knew what was happening in that basement—she _knew_ —she’d been so scared…but it wasn’t her—she was lucky, it wasn’t her… It was never her. She was _always_ lucky, but this time she didn’t want to be. She didn’t want to be lucky anymore.

She didn’t want to watch that again. She couldn’t. She couldn’t watch Beth getting raped… She wanted to hide herself like she used to do—under her bed so no one could find her…hurt her…

“Please—” she muttered, shaking her head, tears streaming over her cheeks... “Please…”

 _Please, don’t hurt us—_ she wanted to say, but words died in her throat as the man only laughed at her and bowed his head at Rick.

“You should fuck your woman better, man,” the sick bastard taunted him. “She begs strangers to get fucked—”

Rick stared ahead, his jaw clenching, “Leave them alone—” he repeated low, blue glinting eyes, staring ahead in the dark, then their eyes caught for a second.

 _Do something—please,_ Amanda begged at him with her eyes. Rick…Rick wouldn’t let those men hurt them. He…He was different… He could—

“Nah—don’t worry, old man. _We_ won’t fuck them,” the man told him, but the statement didn’t relieve her even for a tiny bit, she only felt even colder… “I just want to make your kid a man—” His eyes turned to Carl who was still on the ground— “Go on, boy, go fuck her. Be a real man.”

Then for a second or so, everything was in silence.

# #

It was a nightmare. Nightmare.

_Go on, boy, go fuck her. Be a real man._

Rick looked at Carl, Carl looked back at him—then the bastard sighed behind him. “Dan, motivate the boy—” the sonofabitch ordered one of his men, and with a leer, the man holding Beth over the blue car’s hood nodded eagerly, and pulling back an inch, he took out his knife—

“NO!” Rick shouted as the small pocket knife nailed Beth’s small pale hand into the car’s hood.

Beth raised her head up in the air, howling out in pain. Her screams got muffled a second later as one of the men tied a cloth over her mouth to silence her as Amanda rolled herself into a tight ball over the ground, covering her ears with her hands.

She—she was done. Rick could see it from the way she’d looked at him after she had begged the bastard—begged the man to take her instead... She hadn’t been acting this time. Rick had never seen her…that broken before.

His fault—it was all his fault—

He had to protect them—had to keep them safe—

“Go on, boy—” the bastard, the bastard whose name Rick didn’t even know, ordered Carl. “ _Don’t_ make me motivate you again—”

Carl slowly got to his feet and started walking to Beth as the girl turned aside to look at him, blood, her blood—the blood she’d given Amanda to keep her alive running over the blue paint over the car… It cut something deep in his heart.

Two of the men caught Carl with laughs and leers and started dragging him toward Beth, unbuckling his belt on the way. The bastard who was still holding Beth over the car started unzipping her jeans, too, as Beth started thrashing around—hurting herself further…

Amanda was still the same way beside him on the ground, shrunken into a ball, her hands over her ears as if she wanted to hide herself…like a child, a frightened child…

Carl turned aside as they pushed him over Beth, his jeans down over his hips— “Dad—" his boy called out to him—

Two of them grabbed Amanda as they forced her out of her almost catatonic position to make her watch it, but she still fought off wildly with the hands, tears running over her cheeks—

His eyes flicked toward the car where they started lowering their underwear—

“Leave them alone—” Rick whispered in the dark.

Hands were grabbing his family—hurting them—ruining them—torturing them—

The man laughed…

“Leave them alone—” Rick repeated.

Another sick laugh, and Rick closed his eyes for split second—

He lived for them—to keep them safe. They couldn’t hurt them—not as long as he lived—not as long as there was still breath left in him. He had to do something—

_Do something…_

Amanda was begging at him, green eyes looking at him pleadingly—

 _Dad—_ Carl called out to him—

 _Beth’s blood_ —red over the blue paint—Hershel’s sweet daughter, his sweet innocent baby girl.

No.

Rick felt calm as if a clarity found him, and for a second, he raised his eyes upward and caught the moonlight—

Then he knew.

He threw his head backward, hitting the man as he was still leaned over his shoulder. The gunshot rang beside his ear.

Everything echoed in the dark—a shrill ringing—sharp but freezing.

And they stopped hurting his family.

But the sick bastard came back at him, laughing sickly as Rick stumbled back to his feet— half deaf—half blind—his injuries aching, but he welcomed the pain. It meant he was still alive, so he got up.

 _Get up and fight—_ the words from his childhood memories echoed in his mind as the man wrapped his arms around his waist, hoisting him upward—clutching him—and over blind deafness, Rick heard his taunting voice— “What’re ya gonna do now, old man?”

What he _always_ did.

He was going to protect his family at all cost.

Twisting his head aside, Rick lunged and sank his teeth into the man’s throat.

# # #

Two men were holding her arms back as she fought them, but they stopped at the same time, looking at Rick as the gunshot blared in the night.

They both walked from each other with the impact. Rick staggered on his feet, leaning down, his hand moving to his temples. The man caught him around his waist again before he could pull himself back together and drew him upward. In the sudden silence, Amanda heard the man—her own torturers still trying to get a grip on her again… “What’re ya gonna do now, old man?”

She saw Rick’s eyes for a second—saw the moonlight glinting in those blue depths—cut like a diamond with an edge, and then she knew they were going to be safe.

Rick would never let anything happen to them.

So, she wasn’t surprised, only amazed when he turned his head and ripped out the man’s throat with his bare teeth, then she realized she loved him—loved this feral, fucked-up man-beast in the moonlight so clearly, she almost dropped to her knees again.

He yanked his head backward away from the man’s jugular, and turning aside, spit out what was in his mouth. He truly looked like a beast, too. His dark curls, wet with perspiration, clung to his forehead, his mouth and beard red with blood, the wildness, that raw violence he always tried to keep in check unhinged, uncaged, but Amanda wasn’t scared.

No, the man who _should_ be afraid was laying under his feet, making gurgling voices like his friend had as he was dying after Amanda stabbed him.

This time, there was no question left in her. Nor pity.

So, as Rick took the sick bastard’s knife and stabbed him, Amanda quickly caught one of the men’s guns. She turned it under the man’s chin and pulled the trigger. Before she could turn to the next man, Rick was already on that man, too.

Her words to Gorman came back to her— _You don’t know what he’s capable of…_ No, they didn’t, even she didn’t, most probably _even_ Rick didn’t… but they all were finding out now. Amanda still wasn’t scared.

The men now weren’t even trying to fight with him, despite having guns…as if they thought guns wouldn’t have killed _him_.

One of them, the man who had unbuckled Carl’s jeans, Amanda recognized, still tried, though, as Rick advanced on the man. The man got off a shot, but his hand had been shaking so badly, it just went over into the woods as Rick lunged at him. He drove the man against a tree and stabbed him countless times in his guts, then his hand lowered and found the man’s crotch… The remaining two dropped their guns, raising their hands as Amanda turned to them, as if—as if yielding would’ve saved them now.

No. People like them. They were far better dead.

And Rick was going to do it for everyone else’s sake.

Amanda was just going to watch it this time…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So--wow-- Frankly, I don't know what to say--after I decided that the horrible stuff will happen between Carl and Beth--as instead of almost getting raped, Carl being forced to almost raping someone--a girl he had a crush, I thought this so--so evil--perhaps even worse than a rape attempt--and Beth's scare. I really didn't want this go deeper--I fought with myself how further I would've taken this, but Rick also couldn't take it any longer--Beth--Amanda--Carl all of them getting tortured in a different way. Amanda totally breaking down seeing Beth almost getting raped--I kinda left a few breadcrumbs in the narrative but Amanda saw one of her friends getting raped in one of the homes when they were children--so this also had to happen as Beth also had to get *broken*--she's remained so unscathed for TWD, so I had to deal with it, too. All in frankness, I didn't want her to get raped, brutally raped by a stranger but I think this cut a bit deeper, too, as she almost got raped by the very person she wanted to help, as well, as this's still all Carl's fault, sneaking away like that...
> 
> So, guys, what do you think? I really hope I didn't screw up at this classic iconic scene. I also wanted this scene to be where Amanda finally accepts her own feelings for Rick, and her cold, sterile "she was just going to watch it." Also, wanted her to fully embrace this part of him, as I'm gonna play with it a bit.


	35. Chapter 35

**XXXV.**

For a little while, under the moonlight, the wet, slick noises the sharp blade made as it plunged into flesh and tissue were the only sounds heard in the darkened silence as Rick kept stabbing the man countless times.

The scene was still so feral—so savage, but Amanda still wasn’t scared as she kept watching it, Rick’s left hand holding the man against the tree at his shoulder as with the other, Rick continued to stab… There was something else too… clawing at her to break free in her insides, and suddenly Amanda found herself wanting to go and join Rick, stab the ugly bastard to death _together_ with Rick, rip off his dick and make him eat it, cut him into little pieces… _This_ wasn’t enough. Watching wasn’t _enough_ …

 _How do you know they were bad?_ Lizzie asked somewhere through the foggy shadows of her mind. She wondered if there was something inside them—something rotten— an ugliness... Perhaps Lizzie had been just trying to find that out, cutting up to see what was inside…

Perhaps… perhaps they really had an ugliness inside…that made them hurt people… made them enjoy seeing people suffer, cry, and beg… She remembered the way she’d begged them to stop—stop hurting them. There was so much ugliness in the world. She didn’t want to ask that question anymore. She didn’t want to ask why. She didn’t want to wonder what kind of monsters they were. People hurt, didn’t care—never bothered, even _enjoyed_ …

She balled her hands into fists, looking at the man who just hurt one of the kindest, bravest souls she’d ever known as Rick stabbed him again and again…and Amanda _really_ wanted to do the same—do very, very bad, ugly things to him like he’d wanted to do _them_.

On their own, her feet started pacing over to them, her eyes fixated at the scene… Rick—the man she loved, the wild, blood covered savage beast—and Amanda wanted to _be_ like him—wanted to taste the man’s blood on her tongue—to see what the sick bastard was truly made of—his ugliness inside—

Did ugliness have a taste? It had to. Something rotten, like bile in her stomach…a greasy taint over the surface…

She pulled out her knife—she was going to do it—cut him up and look inside—

She took another step toward them, then through the darkened shadows and red flashes of violence and blood in her mind, she heard it…the soft whimpers, cutting through the slick, wet noises Rick’s knife made, muffled sounds—cries of pain and suffering—

_Beth!_

_He doesn’t matter_ , Rick’s voice echoed in her insides. But Rick was cutting up the bastard now. And the monsters, they’d come to hurt them again. They always came to hurt them… always found them… Behind her eyes, there was the dark filthy basement and her friend again—a life that had ended in a homeless cemetery at sixteen from an overdose…

Amanda swallowed—her eyes closing, her head turning, the world slipping away from her, then she heard something else… beside the soft whimpers, she heard a nearly silent sniff. Her eyes opened, looking to the side, she saw Carl—cast off like a stone, still sitting on his folded knees as he stared at his father motionlessly. His face was white as a sheet, his eyes clouded, and her eyes flicked toward the car—over which Beth was still nailed—

The scene—it stopped everything.

Amanda lunged forward, turning her back to the monster Rick was slaying—the ugliness of him, and chose Beth and Carl instead.

They needed her now. Those sick sonofabitches didn’t matter. The children mattered, only _them_. She stopped beside Beth and looped her arms behind her carefully to pull her jeans and her underwear up to cover her. She saw Carl’s jeans were still unzipped, loosely hanging over his hips as he sat on the ground. He didn’t even look like he was aware of it anymore while he watched Rick.

Amanda felt the familiar fury coursing through her again, but pushed it away. Beth and Carl, they didn’t need fury anymore. Beth twisted her head aside and looked at her. Her wide, doe-like blue eyes were red and moistened with tears and pain, and it hurt Amanda further, but also made her more resolute in her conviction.

Taking the risk, Amanda tightened her arms around the teenage girl. “’s ‘kay,” she whispered. “I got you, sweetheart. I got you. Everything’s gonna be okay,” she murmured, not caring how her words sounded cliché. She didn’t care. Everything was going to be okay. _They_ were going to be okay.

There was so much ugliness in the world, yes, but there was still beauty, too. She always believed that, _always_. There was that monstrous man who had hurt her friend in that filthy basement, but there was also that kind old lady who had baked them gingerbread cookies at Christmas and sung them carols. Not everything was that lost. There was always kindness so long as you wanted to see it. You had to choose to look for it.

They’d lost the prison, lost each other, but not everything was lost. They were going to find Terminus, find Maggie and Glenn, sing that song together, and even bake some cookies. Then they were going to forget what happened tonight. They only needed time now. Monsters hadn’t hurt them. They couldn’t have. Rick hadn’t _let_ them.

Suddenly Amanda noticed silence, too. Rick—he had stopped.

Her head angled aside, she saw him settled against the tree out of the corner of her eye. The bastard was a few steps away from his feet, a heap of stabbed meat and filth as Rick sat in silence, staring ahead, blood still running across his beard and chin, his hands loosely hung over his pulled-up legs, and they were shaking uncontrollably.

A sharp twinge of sadness pierced through her chest. Seeing him like this now, burned out in the middle of his massacre, his rage and fury leaving him bare in the aftermath. She remembered how she’d wanted to hug him the first night after the prison had fallen as he sat down on the couch, wounded and in despair, and how she couldn’t do it. But it was different now. She _could_ do it now… and she _wanted_ to, too, wanted to hug him tightly like he’d done to her tonight. But she couldn’t leave Beth like this. Beth—Carl…they needed her more than him.

Later. She was going to find him later, was going to hug him tightly, and tell him how lucky they were to have him… He needed her to do this now, to take care of the kids first. Amanda recalled how he’d been at the funeral home, how he’d wanted her to run away with the kids. He’d needed her to do that then, leave him behind to save the kids, and he needed her to do this now. Rick had done his job. It was her turn now.

So, Amanda turned aside to Beth. “Sweetheart—” she told the teenager, her hand caressing the sunshine hair. Amanda found the cloth over her mouth. “I’m gonna free you, kay?”

With a little whimper, Beth nodded. Closing her eyes, Amanda let out a breath as well, just Beth did. She eyed the damage. Thank god, it was only a pocket knife, so the wound wasn’t too deep or wide, and it didn’t penetrate through the hood. It was just caught in the crack between the hood and body of the car. Beth wasn’t exactly nailed to the hood Amanda realized a second later, more like too shell shocked to move. Hot tears pricked in her eyes, and blinking them away, Amanda steeled herself. She had to be strong! Reaching out further, she tried to move Beth, but the teenager trembled, shaking. Understanding that Beth still thought herself pinned, nailed to the metal, Amanda grabbed the damn knife, and tightening her fingers around the hilt, she pulled it out.

Beth tossed her head back, her legs buckling. They gave out a second later, and she started sliding against the car’s front, directly into Amanda’s arms. She held the girl tightly, folding her left hand over Beth's injured hand, and lowered them to the ground.

There they stayed motionless, Amanda hunched over behind her, feeling the teenager’s skinny shoulders shaking as Beth cried, blood from the wound in her palm painting both of them red where their hands were still linked together. She wanted to take care of the wound, at least wrap it with something until they got back to the cabin, so it wouldn't get infected. Joan could look at it in the cabin and would try to do something, but Amanda just couldn’t take her hand away from Beth's.

She needed this as much as Beth needed it, she realized then, needed to keep her in her arms, safe and secure, to be there for the girl. Be there for them. Her eyes darted aside to look for Carl… He’d bowed his head now, staring at the ground silently. She felt regret, despair, and guilt radiating out of him—

Inwardly, Amanda shook her head.

 _No_. They were going to be okay. Her arms tightened around Beth. They were going to cry first, then heal themselves, and be…okay. _It wouldn’t hurt to keep a little bit of faith._

She lowered her left arm and reached out blindly. She had to make sure Carl was okay, too. This wasn’t _his_ fault. Amanda knew how the teenage boy must be feeling now. Carl was a good boy, a kind soul, caring… None of them were supposed to be here. Carl…Carl shouldn’t have run away like that, should’ve known better, but it wasn’t important _now_. Not tonight.

So, she reached back and found his hand. Without a thought, Amanda grabbed it, and gave the boy a gentle squeeze. Carl didn’t squeeze hers back, but didn’t pull it away either. He just let her hold his hand.

# # #

Blood tasted copper and metallic over his tongue. It slowly dripped over his chin across his bread, still seeping out of the corner of his mouth. Rick wanted to spit again. He’d already spat countless times, but he didn’t. He only stared ahead…

 _You can't keep me from it._ Carl said somewhere from the past. In front of him, Amanda was holding Beth in her arms, as she freed one hand and slowly arched back and held Carl’s. _From what always happens…_ Rick had tried and had won this time.

His eyes shifted downward, and saw his shaking hands… _The war is over, Rick,_ Hershel told him in his mind, and his gaze wandered around the fallen men—the bastards who had tried to hurt his family. He’d done what he had to, had kept them alive. There was no regret in him—but... The beast in him…

_He needs his father. He needs his father to show him the way. What way are you going to show him?_

Lifting his eyes back up, he stared ahead, his gaze away from the massacre he’d created with his teeth and bare hands—a few feet away from him lay just another sonofabitch and his ripped out throat…

He’d tried—he had…but here they were now…

 _But we're here today—right now,_ Hershel said, but Hershel wasn’t here now…because Rick had failed then, but not again—never again.

He stood up, his eyes returning to the scene in front of him—Amanda holding Beth and Carl, and Rick felt the same calm clarity again as he accepted it…

He bent down—reaching out; his hands were now steady…

 _It’ll just get in the way,_ he told Carl months ago, leaving his duty belt on the table, looking at his son.

…Rick picked up the gun from the ground—

—and accepted…accepted that he— _they_ needed this side of him. They needed that nameless beast in him.

Without even casting a glance at the ripped up man, Rick walked over toward his family .

As he stood there hovering above them, Carl still stayed motionless staring at the ground, his hand inside Amanda’s. Beth was whimpering almost silently in her arms, blood coloring both of them red. The scene reminded him of the way Amanda came back from Grady, laying over Beth’s lap almost lifeless, covered with blood, but Rick pushed the thought away. Beth was okay. Carl was okay. This was going to leave a scar, but they didn’t maim his family irrevocably. Rick had made sure of that.

But they needed to go back now. They still weren’t safe. Not while they were sitting ducks out here like this, with all this fighting they’d done, and the bastard had fired his gun.

They needed to go back to the cabin.

Amanda angled her neck up, giving him a quick look. Her other hand was around Beth’s injured hand, pressing on the wound. “We gotta go—” Rick said, a rasp on its own as if words clawing themselves out of his throat just like how he’d ripped out the bastard’s throat. “Gunshot—it’s gonna bring walkers.”

Amanda nodded. “Yeah—” Her eyes darted around, looking at the kids, as if to ask how…

Understanding, Rick turned to his son. They needed to get up now. “Carl—son, get up—” Rick told his boy, soft yet firm, as he put a hand on his shoulder, and gave the boy a hard squeeze. A part of him was still angry at him, but those were thoughts for later—for tomorrow, not for tonight.

Carl lifted his head and gave him a look—not like the one Rick had seen him looking at him, desperately calling at him— _Dad—_ There was something in it now, an anxiety…or something very akin fright— dismay, and Rick wondered for a second if Carl was scared of him, scared of what he was capable of.

It was a thought Rick had never wanted to dwell on since that first night away from the farm… But—he’d wanted—wanted to show Carl a way—a way to show him normal was still possible…He’d tried—he had—

He stopped the thoughts, his eyes bouncing toward the man—throat ripped out, and noticed his hands shaking again.

No.

He had done what he had to. Nothing else other than that mattered, but keeping them alive, unharmed, and safe. Rick had always believed he could do anything for Carl—anything for his family, but sometimes in the long, dark nights he wondered, he doubted—Lori looking at him in his vision, tall and beautiful in her white dress, and Rick used to wonder if he really would be able to… Rick had his answer now.

He could do everything for his family. Everything.

The proof of it, the token of his victory, was still coating his tongue—copper and metallic—blood, tissue, and all the other things he didn’t care to think, and it tasted like…his memento mori.

Remember death—the death.

It was always there, and Rick was always going to be there, as well.

 _Always_.

He nodded at Carl. “Take off your shirt, son—” Rick rasped out, his eyes finding Beth’s hand again. Amanda’s hand was now as slick as hers with blood. Carl obeyed without a word, standing up, and buckling his pants first, he took off the shirt he wore over his dark tee like he usually did, and handed it to Rick.

Rick took the garment in silence, and kneeling in front of Beth and Amanda, he gently nudged their clasped hands. Understanding his intentions, Amanda raised their hands, small hands—slick with blood, and let go of Beth’s hand a second later. Rick took the girl's hand and saw Beth’s wound, not too deep, but a stigmata through her palm nevertheless.

The sight almost brought his mad fury again. It hurt, hurt badly, to see Hershel’s sweet baby girl like this... Beth—she was already carrying her scars, etched on her skin out of despair and dismay. Now she was going to have to carry this as well.

Suppressing the boiling anger, Rick took her bracelets off first, as gently as possible, the cheap trinkets and long strings of beads that hid Beth’s truth underneath. Beth turned her head aside and hid her face un the crook of Amanda’s neck as Amanda’s eyebrows clenched together, her gaze at Beth’s left wrist where faint pale lines ran across it, but she didn’t say a word.

In silence, Rick started wrapping the wound with Carl’s shirt. “We need to get back to the cabin,” Rick whispered to them, and despite his intention to soften his tone, it still came out as a rasp. “it isn’t safe here.”

Amanda nodded, her eyes still on Beth’s now covered up wrist. Rick leaned forward and brushed a light kiss over the girl’s hair. “Beth—” Rick asked lowly. “You good?”

Without a word, her face still half hidden at Amanda’s shoulder, Beth nodded. Amanda lifted her eyes up to him. “You?” Rick asked.

Amanda nodded, too, but her eyes searched his. “You?” she questioned.

Rick didn’t turn his eyes away, looked at her openly and told her truthfully. “I will be.”

He was going to be. As long as he kept his family safe, Rick was going to be okay.

Her eyes still on his, Amanda gave him another nod and started standing up, pulling Beth up to her feet as well. “Can you walk, dear?” she asked softly, supporting the teenager's weight with her shoulder.

Again without a word, Beth only nodded. Amanda glanced at him again, and they shared a look. Rick saw worry clouding her eyes as she looked at the girl, and Rick remembered the way Beth was after Shane had opened the barn.

The anger was building in him again… They shouldn’t have been here. Beth shouldn’t have been here—Amanda shouldn’t have been here. Carl shouldn’t have been here.

Carl.

His eyes turned toward his son… Thoughts, doubts, anger, and guilt all trying to fill him once more, but they had no time for them now. The cabin—they needed to get back to the cabin. Rick needed to get them back to safety.

“Let’s go—” He gestured with his head to motion them forward, and wordlessly they all followed his order.

Rick took point—Beth and Amanda walking at his left side a step behind, Carl at his other side the same way. In a few minutes, his son was walking beside him as they silently tread in the woods. “Dad—” Carl called out, giving him a side look, swallowing, but Rick cut his boy off, shaking his head.

“Not now, Carl—” he said almost with a sigh. “Later. We talk later, son.”

# # #

Her hand was throbbing like a heartbeat with each step they took. The seventeen year old girl felt it pulsing. It hurt, and the pain was like another entity in her mind, her focus becoming entirely one of pain—and suffer—and despair…

 _It wouldn’t hurt you to keep a little bit of faith_ —she heard herself saying somewhere in the distant past, and almost couldn’t recognize her voice, as if it belonged to someone else—as if it belonged to another time—when things weren’t this ugly.

Beth had wanted to fight, wanted to help, wanted to make a chance, but—it was getting harder and harder…to hope everything was going to be okay. _If you don’t have hope, what’s the point of living?_ her father had asked her, but her father wasn’t here anymore. He was dead.

Beth wanted him back, already missed him so terribly. Her father…he could’ve explained because she couldn’t understand anymore… She’d thought she did—but she was wrong.

She couldn’t understand. She couldn’t understand why _they_ were doing this—

She remembered the feel of hands on her, the rush of the men's breath she felt emitting out of them as she struggled, and they struggled along with her to keep her bound and nailed like a little wild animal caught in a trap—hands on her jeans—unzipping them—hands on her underwear—fingers looping around the edges, pulling them down—

 _Why?_ the question was turning in her mind… She hadn’t deserved this. No one could deserve this.

Hands groped—hands gripped—hands squeezed—the feel of rough skin over her skin—bruising—and her hand was throbbing—the sharp blade through it—her blood pouring of it… Her eyes watered, and she shook her head…

She twisted her head aside and found her friends’ eyes as the older woman still held her arm as they walked slowly, and Beth looked past her to her _other_ friend that walked at Rick's other side… She didn’t want to see him… not now… she—she couldn’t see him. She—she’d just wanted to help.

“Why—Amanda, why?” she suddenly asked, her hand still throbbing… “Why did they do this to us?”

_Why did they do this to me?_

The teenager looked at her friend. Like her father, her older friend must have the answer. She ought to know. Her friend—the last of the Greenes, she knew stuff. She didn’t like talking about those things, but she knew. The older woman was like an older sister to her now. And Beth wanted her sister, too. She wanted Maggie… And she wanted her father back, too… She wanted everything to turn back to normal.

But her friend—one of the coolest, smartest women Beth had ever seen just gave her such a look, she then understood there was no answer—no answer that would satisfy her. “I don’t know. I don’t know, Beth—” her friend answered. “I guess they just thought they…could.”

She shook her head. “It’s not right—” she opposed.

And Amanda, too… “No, it isn’t—” she said. “It is what it is.”

Her hand throbbed. “It’s awful—”

“It _is_ —” her friend accepted, but half halting in her steps, turned aside toward Beth. “But there are still good people, Beth. There’s still beauty. We only have to choose to see it.”

Beth gave the former police officer a look, but didn’t say anything else.

Yes, there were still good people. She always believed that, too, but for how long? For how long would they remain spared, unscathed, stay untouched by all this ugliness—how long?

Her eyes moved downward, and she looked at her hand—bloodied and maimed. At least she knew that answer now.

Not long. Not long.

# # #

“Later. We talk later, son—” his father told him with a rasping sigh, and Carl wished he hadn’t.

His voice sounded weary, tired, but also understanding—and Carl wished he was angry instead, just like that man-beast a few minutes ago. He—he’d been…scared, that scene had made him remember another scene in the moonlight again, but his anger was better than his—understanding.

They should’ve been angry at him—should’ve shouted at him—yelled at him, told him it was all of his fault—

Because it was! He’d caused this, and they should’ve told him that, not act like this, not being considerate, holding his hand, his shoulder, trying to comfort him… He—he wasn’t what his father thought he was. Carl had seen it clearly tonight. He—he was a monster. Not like those men, but another kind. But he had tried, tried to be a man his father would be proud of…

 _He_ —he’d told him he was proud of him before…but…Carl wondered what his father thought now.

He—he wasn’t like his father. He only caused pain and suffering to those he loved. He remembered Beth’s hand—blood—and the way the men pushed him at her—forced him on her…

He’d caused this… He’d never known who he was—what he was—but tonight, Carl had learned that too.

He was a monster, of another kind, the worst kind—a monster who hurt his loved ones the most.

His mother’s face came to him as he shot her, and he remembered that boy he killed in the woods, and his eyes darted towards Beth who walked beside his father on his other side, the police officer holding her tightly, but his friend wasn’t even looking at him anymore…

A monster… Carl thought again as he kept walking beside his father in silence.

# # #

When they saw the cabin ahead, nothing –dead or alive—bothering them again, Amanda almost let out a cry of relief. The walk back hadn’t been easy, all of them dealing with what happened in their own ways.

Her little talk with Beth had been the last straw—hearing her own doubts and questions from the teenager’s lips… and it’d been really awful, _not_ right—Beth shouldn’t have felt like this, shouldn’t have asked her that question— _Why? Why did they do_ _this_ _to us?_

_Stop hurting us…_

She gave herself a mental shake again. No! No, she shouldn’t think about this stuff. They…they were going to be okay. One bad thing didn’t define who they were. She’d caught Beth glancing at her hand a couple of times, but no. Amanda _wasn’t_ going to let that happen. There wasn’t only ugliness in the world, not only monsters…

They had to believe that—or else…or else…

Amanda didn’t want to think about that _else_.

She also didn’t want to think of the scars over the girl’s wrists, didn’t want to speculate… They needed time, she assured herself again. Everything was just so fresh tonight. They needed time to work on this, work out what happened—their issues with themselves, with each other. Carl had wanted to say something, but Rick had stopped him. Amanda had also seen that look in the boy’s eyes again…

And it worried her as much as Beth’s glance to her palm did.

Terminus… They needed Terminus. Find Maggie and Glenn. Beth needed her family, and they needed a real roof over their heads. Then they could get their shit together, pick up themselves, be— _human_ again. Terminus… it must be good… There were still good people, and the good people helped each other. They shared what they owned—

God, she wished she wasn’t being an idiot.

The cabin…despite everything, even that little cottage felt like home. Amanda twisted her head and tried to give Beth an encouraging smile, but it froze on her lips, seeing her stony expression, her face color of ash.

Wrong—wrong… Amanda felt again like she was failing, even though she had no idea of what—She started ushering the girl inside, Carl following her steps, but Rick fell behind. She angled her head to look at him, but he motioned at her to keep going. “I’ll make a round—” he explained. “You go ahead.”

Amanda always knew when she was lied to boldly, but she didn’t oppose it. Rick needed time and space, too. She still wanted to go to him, be there for him—later, she told herself again, later…once she made sure both Carl and Beth were relatively okay. She nodded at Rick, and they started going in.

Even before they stepped inside, Daryl and Joan were coming out to meet them. “What happened?” the former nurse exclaimed, seeing them stumbling tiredly, Amanda still holding Beth close. “Are you okay?”

The very question they kept asking each other.

Amanda nodded and gave her friend the answer Rick had given her… “We will be.”

They were going to be okay.

Even if it was going to be the last thing she did, Amanda was going to make sure of that.

# # #

“Got another cigarette?” Rick asked when Daryl found him at the back of the cottage, sitting at the same position, his hands resting over his knees, his back against the logs of the cabin.

He hadn’t made a round, just came and sat down—too tired to walk anymore, tired to his bones, but he knew he couldn’t be inside now—not tonight. Daryl shook his head. “Nah—sorry, man,” he told Rick, giving him one of their water bottles and his red cloth he always kept in his back pocket.

Rick knew he was still a sight, but still water was much more precious than to keep up appearances. But blood—there was blood everywhere, even in his eyes… “We should save it to drink—” he said though, giving the hunter a look, lifting his head up.

His friend shook his head at him. “Nah—ya’d give kids a scare like this—”

Well, there was that, too. Raising his hand, Rick took the bottle. “Amanda told us what happened,” Daryl said, settling beside him in the dirt as Rick wetted the cloth and started wiping his eyes. “’m sorry—” his friend continued, and almost surprised, Rick gave the man a side look, not only because Daryl hadn’t done anything to be sorry for, but the tracker seldom manifested regret or apologized for anything. “I—I stopped looking for the asshole—back at the prison. I shouldn’t have—”

Rick cut him off, shaking his head. “I—I didn’t look for him, either, Daryl. We all wanted to _live_ , have a real life again. There’s nothing wrong with that.” There wasn’t, but he wondered now if it was just wishful thinking.

 _Things changing in here doesn't change things out there,_ he had told Hershel, and Rick had been right, _things_ hadn’t changed. This— _this_ was real life. Perhaps they all had to accept that now. “That’s not on you, Daryl. If it’s at anyone, it’s on me.” He paused. “Amanda—Amanda told me I—I shouldn’t have insisted on fighting back. He—he told us we could leave.” He took a breath before he confessed. “I—I didn’t want to. I wanted to—try—”

Daryl shook his head in opposition. “Nah—ya did the right thing,” he told Rick, his voice earnest. “We wouldn’t have left without a fight first.”

Rick nodded, giving him another look, “I know, brother—” he said, the word wasn’t feeling strange, Daryl was truly like a brother to him now, his silent but everlasting presence always had his back. His brother, his family. 

He then thought about Terminus, what kind of people they were, but stopped a second later. It didn’t matter. Whoever they were didn’t matter. They had walls, a safe place, a real roof, and that was all that mattered at the end. That and his family.

Nothing else. Rick started rubbing his chin, his beard caked with dried blood. “What you did—” Daryl said slowly after a while, giving him a side look. “Everyone would’ve done it.”

Rick shook his head. “No,” he said. “Not that.” He also had to accept that now. His eyes cast down Rick looked at the red cloth. “Something happened. Something…snapped.” He paused, his eyes still on the red. “I snapped.”

Daryl shook his head at him again. “No. That ain’t you.”

Turning aside, Rick gave the man a full look. “Daryl, you saw what I did to Tyreese.” What he’d almost done to Amanda, lost in his rage… Her eyes…those beautiful green eyes widened in fear staring at him, lying under him…waiting on his fist… He—he’d been close too…just an inch… “It isn’t all of it, but that's me.”

There was no running from it anymore. No more growing crops, feeding pigs, and killing critters…no more escaping. It was his truth, a part of him, the part that had kept them alive, unhurt tonight. “That's why I'm here now,” Rick went on. “That's why Carl, Beth, Amanda—they all are.”

That raw violence, that ferocious beast, Rick needed it to keep his family alive and safe.

And still, there was no disturbance in him with that self-truth, only a calm clarity. That part of him was just a necessary evil that he needed.

# # #

Later in the night, Rick found them sleeping together in each other’s arms on the floor under the window, Amanda spooning Beth tightly from behind as her hand still gently held Beth’s, even in sleep.

Seeing them like that made him feel better, just for a bit. Leaving them, Rick went to the bedroom to check on Carl and Judy. Carl was lying beside his sister, inches apart from the baby girl as his fingers lightly touched his baby sister to make himself certain she was beside him.

Crouching at the side of the low cot, Rick bowed his head, resting his elbows at the edge of the bed, drawing in a deep breath…and listened to their breathing… He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, crouched beside them, his head between his hands before suddenly he heard footsteps. They were light, barely touching to the floor, and Rick knew who they belonged to even before skinny yet toned arms circled around his upper torso from behind, and her head rested on his back.

Amanda linked her fingers around his chest tightly. Rick listened to her breathing in the silence, too, mixing with his childrens’, a rhythm, a song that anchored him to the ground. Neither of them said a word. Words—they weren’t needed tonight. She just held him then, a few seconds later a light kiss brushed the side of his neck, lingering, then her lips pressed on his pulse firmly. Rick understood what it meant—all of him; she was accepting all of him, the good, the bad, and the ugly, all of him.

He wished he could’ve said it didn’t matter. _He_ had accepted himself, his own truth, even if no one else did, Rick had. But still, the simple gesture made his breath hitch, his pulse fasten, his blood boil…a part of him, despite everything, still wanted to take her under him and have her again, completely, entirely, bury himself into her depths and be lost in her…

Then Rick had another self-realization, too: that he might’ve very well fallen in love with Amanda Shepherd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me a real struggle, and I'm still not perfectly happy with it--I think I wrote it three times--this was the final result. Amanda's 'we have to choose to see the beauty" is coming directly from Westworld-Dolores's "I choose to see the beauty". Beth's started having the same dilemma like her, too, questioning about the nature of good and bad. It was fun to delve into it, but things are very hard now, so I couldn't make them interact a lot. But at least, Amanda finally saw Beth's scars from her suicide attempt.
> 
> I also wanted to focus on Rick further, and the flashbacks from the show as this is his cornerstone to accept his own violent nature, its necessity, and of course at the end like Amanda, Rick starting to realize his feelings. I also wanted to make Amanda hug him from behind, accepting him, how Lori shouldn't have done before... And Rick calling Daryl as his brother. That talk was very similar to the show, wanted to keep it as much as I could've, because it was awesome :D
> 
> And Carl! Finally getting to the point of feeling like a "monster"!  
> God, there's still so much stuff they need to resolve! Terminus is still there, too.
> 
> I hope you're still with me--reading and enjoying. I have to accept your comments really make me motivated to try to update faster, as I'm struggling with the story, and I've started getting back to the real life again! I went to get my hair and nails done this week, and went to supermarket, too, after months! Imagine that!  
> I was also very sad hearing about George Floyd. I wish, like Amanda, people would've stopped doing bad things just because they could. I heard a police chief, whose name I can't remember right now said "kindness doesn't mean weakness" and I wish people also would recognize that as well.


	36. Chapter 36

**XXXVI.**

As usual, Amanda woke up at the first light of the new day started slipping through the tinted windows of the cabin, her arms protectively cocooning Beth. She’d returned to the teenager’s side after holding Rick for a while like she wanted to do all day, being there for him in silence, giving him a little kiss, hoping her presence would be enough.

His silent company had been enough for her as he sat crouched down beside the bed where Carl and Judith were laying. She’d wondered if Carl were sleeping, another reason why she didn’t want to talk—didn’t want to give the teenage boy more reasons to…be disturbed. She just wanted to comfort Rick for a bit, show him her gratitude, make him understand how much it meant what he did for them.

She wished she could’ve done more. She wished she could’ve _really_ showed him how much he meant to her.

Her arms still around Beth, she drew a silent breath. She felt _it_ so strongly again, coursing through her… Her feelings. They flooded over her, _out_ of her, the way she felt last night, the way she felt for him. It was powerful, and a part of her started feeling…overwhelmed. She’d first started feeling it last night, holding him silently, and—and almost broke into tears. She didn’t want them to go away, she didn’t want them to stop, god help her, she even wanted more— _more_ of him, more of _this_ , but it was still terrifying. She’d never felt anything like this before.

Never.

Before she could stop herself, her thoughts just twirled further…and Amanda wondered how sex would be like with him now… Images assaulted her, making her feel it more heavily, something deep in the pit of her stomach coiling so tightly. The way they had sex was already so intense, so intimate, the thought of doing it _together_ now made her insides constrict. God, she was doomed, she realized a second later.

She was in love with Rick Grimes, and she had no idea what to do with it.

Slowly, making sure not to disturb Beth’s fatigue induced sleep, Amanda pulled herself free of the teenager. She lay on her back on the floor and stared at the ceiling in silence. Was she supposed to tell him how she felt?

Even the _thought_ of it made her stomach tighten worse as she imagined herself telling him… No. No. Nonono… No way.

She could never stand in front of him and tell him that she loved him… She shivered. Even thinking to herself like _that_ was enough to give her shivers.

What if he wasn’t feeling the same? He had affections for her, yes, he’d already admitted it. He cared for her, he felt… _differently_ , but love… Love was different, or so everyone told her. How could she know? She’d never fallen in love before.

How could _she_ tell the difference? She was never loved before either.

God, accepting her feelings was so much easier in the night. The way she wanted to be there for him, wanting to give him comfort, making sure he was okay, too. Everything looked so easy last night, so simple; she loved him, no big deal, but now in the new day, everything felt overwhelming.

She shook her head. They had no time for stuff like this.

She’d once said that love was for fools or children. She wondered what she was being now… A fool or a child? Perhaps both. She imagined again herself bubbling out in front of him—talking about _feelings_ , and love, and stuff, Rick giving her those looks—pitiful…pitying her.

She grimaced.

Would he pity her? Make fun of her? Tell her she was reading too much? Was she—? Was she really reading too much into it? Rick really didn’t sound like he knew himself what they were doing when she asked him that dreadful damn “what are we now?"

He—he’d said you stood beside me, said he knew his feelings, but…well… come to think of it, it really sounded very cryptic.

She shook her head at herself.

She shouldn’t think about this. They had problems, _real_ problems. Beth needed her. She was almost raped last night, and she needed to make things straight with Carl, too. Despite of her confusion with her feelings, she couldn’t let things go like this. Rick also needed to make things okay with Carl, if they would _ever_ find out what was happening between them.

They—they still wanted it, right? They—they would still try?

Out of sudden, another scare gripped her—again something she’d _never_ felt before. What if—what if he wanted to stop? This disaster happened because of them—because of her—because Amanda had pushed him to have sex. Granted, she didn’t need to push a _lot_ , Rick quickly jumped on the wagon, but what if he decided now it wasn’t worth the trouble? Too much of a hassle?

Wasn’t that she always felt about relationships? Too much drama.

And she was right in the _middle_ of an A-class family drama, the very thing she’d always hated. The best course of action would be to cut it off—permanently—to save themselves from the trouble. Perhaps Rick just was going to want to wash his hands of it. Who would blame him? He cared for his children more than anything in this life. Why would he put them through this anyway? Sex was good, affection was okay, but…love—? Really?

It wasn’t worth the trouble. _She_ certainly wouldn’t be worth all that trouble.

She sucked in a hitched breath, blinking—suddenly her eyes burning…

God, she was an idiot! How could she have let things come this far!

The first time in her life, she’d _finally_ fallen in love, lost in the woods in the middle of the end of the world, and she was fucking sure she was going to get dumped…from _whatever_ the hell they were having between them.

 _Fool_ —a snide voice snarled at her inside in her mind, _fool…_

She blinked again, forcing the tears back, the dirty, bug eaten log walls of the cottage coming at her. Silently, making sure that she wasn’t waking Beth as the teenager slept semi-passed out with fatigue after her ordeal, Amanda started standing up. She was fucking losing it. Too much had happened, and she got lost in the events. She needed to take a breather. This was insane, _everything_ was insane.

She walked to the door gingerly on quiet feet. She didn’t see Daryl inside, so the hunter must’ve already left to find something to eat for them. Rick still must be inside with the kids. Taking a calming breath, Amanda walked out of the cabin.

Terminus. They should focus on Terminus. This disaster had happened because they’d lost their priorities and done something they shouldn’t have. She’d _insisted_ on it.

She started making a tour around the cabin, wishing she could run as fast as she could, feel the morning breeze whipping at her face, around her hair…Her loose, dirty, caked hair… On its own, her hand touched her locks brushing over her shoulder, and realizing what she was doing, with a frustrated sigh, she stopped herself.

She needed to get her shit back together! Rick said they were going to sit down and talk when they arrived at Terminus, so she guessed they would just do that. He’d also told her to trust him—

Her steps faltered, and she looked at Rick as he was turning from the other direction, just like her, making a tour himself, too.

Caught unawares seeing him, her heart started galloping madly, her hands almost trembling. She darted her eyes aside to see if she could hide…She wasn’t ready to do this, not yet…It’d been so easy in the dark, just holding him…feeling _it_ …but now… She needed time, goddammit! But it was already too late. His steps halted for a second noticing her as she gawked at him like a moron, then he started walking toward her.

The pit of her stomach coiling into a twist, Amanda forced herself to relax. There was no reason to be this panicked, she advised herself. It was only Rick, the man she loved—no fucking big deal!

God, she really wished she could just run away!

He stood in front of her beside a small fig tree in the backyard and gave her a look. She shifted her eyes at the figs… They should pick those again… “Hey—” he greeted her with a small voice, still looking at her.

She nodded with a small hey back… “We should pick the figs—” she mumbled a second later, the first thing that came to her mind, sliding a look up at the ripe figs.

His eyes followed hers and he craned his neck up at the tree. “Yeah—”

“Daryl left for food?” she asked further, still eyeing the fruits.

Rick half nodded absently, turning away from the tree. “Yeah—and water,” he said. “I—I used all the water last night.”

His answer made her look at him fully. His face was clean now, blood stains washed away, and his soft brown sprinkled with grey beard clean. She couldn’t have seen him properly last night beside the bed, but felt glad to see him like this now, free of the remains of his own ordeal. Her chest swelling with emotions again, she nodded. “Yeah.”

Rick’s frown deepened, “Amanda—ya okay?” he asked her, and she really—really just wanted to run… but she wasn’t sure she wanted to run from him or into his arms… She half nodded. “Yeah—”

“About last night—”

She cut him off before he could continue. She couldn’t do this now, just couldn’t. Terminus… They would sit down and talk then. “I was thinking of Terminus,” she said quickly as Rick frowned further. “When do you think we should leave?”

He gave her another look, but shaking his head, he looked around. “I—I don’t know,” he answered. “I feel like we need to take a day off.”

Amanda thought about it. A part of her agreed that they needed to cool down. Everything was in turmoil: her feelings, what had happened, but they also needed to go to Terminus. Beth certainly wouldn’t want to wait, either. She needed Maggie. She needed her sister.

“I’ve been thinking, too,” Rick continued, then suddenly announced, his eyes finding hers again, his voice getting strained with that rasping tone, almost sounding…angry. “I made a mistake.”

Her head snapped at him. “I left the guns last night. They got guns, and _I_ left them there,” he spat darkly. “We need them. I’ll go back and take ‘em.”

 _Guns! Of course!_ She understood the reason of his anger. She almost took a step forward and put her hand on his cheek like she’d done before. She so wanted to do it, but her feet were rooted to the earth. So, she just looked back at him. “Okay—” she said. “When Daryl returns, we go back and take them.”

Rick shook his head. “No. You stay. I’ll go.”

She shook her head quickly, the same old argument. Still, he wasn’t going _there_ alone. “No. I’m coming, too.” She would never let him do that alone, to see _it_ alone in the daylight. No fucking way, but Rick gave her another look with a brief jerk of his head.

“No. You stay,” he repeated. “Kids need you here.”

“No—” He cut her off again before she could say another word.

“Amanda, for the sake of my sanity, please, _don’t_ argue.” His eyes bore through hers. “I don’t want you anyway near that place again.”

Her heart started beating madly in her chest again, all of her feelings rushing at her—and she feared she would—would—do what? Jump into his arms and tell him—tell him she loved him…? She stared at him wildly, caught in her moment.

Rick started looking at her searchingly, too, noticing her reaction, then closed the gap between them. He stood a few inches in front of her and cupped her cheek gently with his hand. “Hey—are you really okay?”

She shook her head, her eyes still on his, too. “I—I don’t want you alone there,” she told him hoarsely. “Daryl and Joan can go and take the guns. We stay here, cool down.” She paused and added with a small voice. “Take care of the kids.”

Leaning on toward her, Rick gave her a small, faint smile, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Okay—” he whispered, leaning further as she lifted her head up— “I’ll stay.”

Once again, it was so easy—so easy to kiss him, so easy to forget the turmoil she was feeling, her worries—doubts… They were still somewhere there in her mind, but she didn’t care. She just kissed him, winding her arms around his neck, and pressed herself at him.

His hands linked under her hips in response, and he hoisted her up against him, squeezing her ass as his kiss turned something else—his tongue and lips hungrily devouring her mouth—

Amanda pulled herself away with the last of her resolve before things turned more heated. “Rick—” she breathed out throatily.

He rested his forehead against hers, giving out a breath. “I—I—” He shook his head, “Sorry.”

She brushed her fingers over his upper jawline, stroking his beard. “’s okay…” she murmured, still pleased to…feel him desire her so fiercely, but—but—

Desiring someone didn’t mean that you were in love… She forced the thought away, giving herself a mental shake, something in her stomach churning. She—she really shouldn’t think about it—not now. She pulled back an inch, but his arms sliding up over to her waist, Rick didn’t let her move.

He tightened them around her waist and pulled her back. “Amanda—” His eyes found hers again, and he looked at her openly. “Is—is there something you want to tell me?”

As her heart started beating so fast once again, she felt a panic worse than before. He couldn’t know it, right? He—he couldn’t realize… “I know last night was hard for you in a different way,” he stated. “I saw you.”

For a second, Amanda couldn’t understand what he was referring to, the words not making sense through her panic and confusion, then the next second, she remembered. She swallowed, the way she was last night coming at her, and suddenly she felt so…exposed, like all of her layers had been peeled off, leaving her defenseless. Her panic and confusion turned to dread, fear… Too much, it was too much… Being this open when everything was so overwhelming. She felt naked… the basement—her friend—Beth—nailed in the car… her jeans loosened around her hips… “If—if you want to talk about it,” Rick continued as she stayed silent. “I—you can talk to me.”

She swallowed again, giving a little nod. “Thanks—” she mumbled, but didn’t say anything further. She didn’t want to talk about it. She only wanted to forget it. All of it. It was just a bad night. She wanted to move on. She just wanted all of them to move on.

Understanding there would be no talk, Rick nodded in return and stepped back. “I’ll talk with Carl today,” he remarked. “But I really think we need to take this day off.”

“Yeah, I guess—” she agreed with another small nod. She didn’t like being sitting ducks another day in the woods, but Rick was right. They needed to cool off, lick their wounds first, before they would start to move. Move on—a bad night, it was just a bad night.

She squared her shoulders and looked at Rick again. “Don’t be hard on him,” she warned. “He’s still fourteen. It’s adolescence prerogative to make stupid mistakes. And we _really_ shouldn’t have done it this close to the cabin.” She paused, pursing her lips. “Imaging catching your dad doing it like _that_ —”

He almost trembled visibly but scowled. “I know.”

“I’ll talk to Beth—” Amanda continued. “She—” She stopped in midsentence and swore inside. “The scars over her wrist,” she stated, her face turning stiff.

She’d been wondering about them since last night, but they had no time to discuss…and her…semi panic attack made her almost forget about them… God, she really needed to get her shit back together. “I saw ‘em last night,” she went on, asking, “What happened?”

With a sigh, Rick leaned against the fig tree. “Beth—she tried to kill herself when we were at their farm,” he answered, and Amanda stared.

A part of her had already realized, the lines over her wrist had made it clear, but still the notion was disturbing; the sweet Beth who was always full of love and joy attempting suicide… It—it was just wrong! People like _her_ …. broken girls should try to kill themselves, not girls like Beth.

“When we came to their farm, Hershel was still thinking what happened was like a disease,” Rick started retelling, “thinking people would come back again after a cure was found. They had a barn. Hershel had put walkers inside before we came, Beth’s mom, her brother, others…” he continued. “We didn’t know. One day we learned. Things went south. My partner got very angry. He opened the barn’s doors. We—we had to kill ‘em all. Hershel’s wife—Beth’s mother was inside. She—she attacked Beth. We saved her at the last moment.” He paused, letting a sigh out, bowing his head. “She got sick then. Dropped in the house, doing dishes, went catatonic. She stayed like that for a few days. After she came to, she—um-she tried to kill herself.”

Amanda ran a hand over her face, listening to the story, feeling heartsick. “They—they said she didn’t want to do it. Only cut—a bit, not too deep. She—she didn’t want to die, I guess, not really,” Rick went on. “She—she was just in despair, depressed.”

Amanda nodded and raised her head to look at Rick. “Does she hurt herself when she gets depressed?” she asked directly.

Rick gave her a look. “What?”

“Does she hurt herself when she gets depressed?” she repeated with a clearer voice. “We need to know. Self-destructive behaviors are typified with repetitions and patterns. She wanted to harm herself. She might want to do it again.”

Rick shook his head. “I’ve never seen or heard her doing it.”

“All right, I’ll talk to her—” she said with a deep breath. “You’re right. We need to stay here today. How long do you think it would take to go to Terminus?”

“A day more or less—” Rick answered. “Going at night isn’t a good idea, so we need to camp somewhere nearby for the night. The morning after we can make it there.”

“So Daryl could go and look for the guns—” She paused. “He takes Joan, too. I really don’t want any of us out there alone anymore.” She looked around. “Why didn’t he take Joan this morning anyways?” she asked, scowling. “We should’ve already learned how to set up a damn snare by now!” she fumed, quite glad that she found an outlet to channel her pent-up scares, confusions, and turmoil into something else. “He needs to show us!”

He gave her a look, “I told you I’m gonna teach you—”

She grimaced, “Yeah, we _all_ saw what happened when we tried,” she shot back, turning away. “From now on, let’s leave the teaching stuff to Daryl.”

She started walking to the cabin, feeling Rick’s heated gaze staring at her back.

# # #

As she strode away, his eyes narrowed at her back, Rick almost caught her and asked what the hell happened—seriously what the hell happened since last night? Where the hell that compassionate, kind woman was gone, the woman who had brought him peace just with her presence…holding him tightly, giving him a little, but a firm kiss without hesitation.

She left in the night, and come the morning, she was armed with her claws and quills all out again. But not at first… She—she was weird at first, avoidant, then turned on her sharp witch persona again. It was hard, Rick knew, it was hard for each of them. He wanted to talk to her, too, be there for her how she’d been there for him last night. Rick could still remember the way she’d reacted last night—covering her ears, tightening herself into a ball like a terrified child, almost catatonic. He—he wanted to relax her, help her. He needed to help her! Be there for her. He—he loved her!

Dammit!

He did, didn’t he?

He must. The answer was becoming more palpable, yet Rick also started getting worried. He already knew any kind of relationship with Amanda Shepherd wouldn’t be a picnic, but this morning made it quite certain. Something had apparently disturbed her, possibly because he wanted her to open up to him about her past—Christ!

She—she shouldn’t have felt that guarded with him. He’d told her to trust him.

He gave himself a small shake of head. Later. He was going to deal with it once they arrived at Terminus. Until then, he was going to have to ignore her quills and claws. He was going to pluck them out one by one, if he needed to, get her in his arms once again like last night.

He heaved a breath and made another tour to give her some space before he followed her inside the cabin. She was in the corner with Beth as the teenager sat with her legs folded in front of her, as Joan was tending Beth’s hand again in the morning. They’d found a little first-aid kit left behind in the cabin, a pitiful thing, but it still got a few bandages and antibiotics cream. The leftover antibiotic was a treasure found, and Rick was grateful.

Beside them on the wooden floor, Amanda was sitting, holding Judith in her lap. His baby girl was trying to crawl all over her again, her little hand fisted through her hair as Amanda tried to quiet her down. Judith was getting even more…unruly as they screwed up her internal clock more, and Rick feared it would only get worse if they didn’t find a real roof soon. They needed a place. They all needed it.

Anger leaving him, Rick felt sadness again, his eyes moving to Beth again as the teenager sat motionlessly while her wound was getting tended. Her hand would heal, but the scars from the last night—he didn’t know how long it would take for her to heal fully. He remembered what Amanda had said and he imagined Beth harming herself like that… No. It was wrong, so wrong, Beth doing something like that.

No.

Amanda could deal with that. She was a way better than him for reaching out to kids, talking to them. Hell, she could even reach out to adults whenever she felt like it, opening up herself. Rick could still remember how he’d spilled out to her when she first came to the prison, she just had that…ability. A part of him wanted her to talk with Carl, too, but Rick needed to do this first. Father-and-son talk. That talk was long past due.

Then Carl and Amanda would make their own peace. Rick didn’t want them to tiptoe around each other, and neither did he want himself and Amanda on pins and needles around Carl. He still wanted to do this openly.

He looked at his fingers—his _bare_ fingers. His ring was still in his pocket, and Rick didn’t want to put it on again. Carl was going to need to accept that.

Crossing the room, Rick walked into the bedroom. Carl was still lying on the bed on his back, staring at the wooden ceiling motionlessly. Even though he heard Rick coming, the teenager just ignored him.

Rick didn’t react to it. “Son, come, let’s have a talk—” he told his boy instead, motioning with his hand for him to get up.

Carl turned his head on the pillow and gave him a look. “It’s okay, dad. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

With an inward sigh, Rick recognized his words _. I don’t need to explain myself to you, nor do I need to_ _have_ _your permission for anything…_ “Carl—”

“I said it’s okay—”

His voice raised an octave higher. “Carl!” He paused, clearing his throat… He gave his boy a look. “Son, please.”

The teenager got up from the bed without any argument then.

They left the room, walking to the living room. Carl’s eyes skipped to Amanda and Judith for a second as Judith was draping herself over Amanda’s right forearm as she tried to keep the baby girl in her arms. The scene almost tugged a smile at the corner of his lips, but fighting it, Rick gestured at the slim rope in the corner to Carl. “Take the rope,” he instructed. “I’m gonna show ya how to set up a snare.”

Amanda’s eyes snapped to him, hearing the words, moving Judith to her left arm as she looked at him for a full second. She turned her attention to Beth then, as Joan wrapped a red cloth over the gouge in her palm. Rick walked out, Carl silently following him after taking the rope.

They walked towards the tree line, the cabin still in their sight, very close to the spot Carl had caught them yesterday, but Rick tried not to think on that. The tree he’d fucked Amanda against was right there, and Rick tried to keep his eyes away from there, too. He spied Carl doing the same.

He stopped inside the edge of the woods and waved a hand around. “In these woods, squirrels are the easiest catch, way quicker than rabbits,” he started explaining. Usually, they needed to go deeper in the trees, but Rick didn’t actually want to catch anything right now.

He walked around a little, looking for small twigs and branches that they would need to set up the trap, then crouched at the side of a tree that looked suitable enough for a snare.

Walking beside him, Carl followed his example too. “To catch wild game, you always need to find the best spot,” Rick started, pointed at the funnel shape opening of a hollow of the tree. “If not, it’s just a waste of time. The animals make trails for water. It’s always easiest to follow them for hunting and water. But be careful they’re wild animals,” he warned. “Trails—” Rick pointed at the running tracks away from the tree— “are the best for rabbits and the roots of the trees for the squirrels.” He pointed at the funnel shape at the root of the tree again. “The hollows of the trees are the best spots to set up a snare in front of as they’re the spots animals would hide and climb upward.”

Carl nodded. Rick took the slim rope. “Now, usually it’s best done with a wire, but works like this too,” he went on, measuring the length of the rope. “This’s just a simple slip knot,” he instructed further, bowing his head to start twisting the rope. “It’s pretty easy—”

“I know it—” Carl suddenly interrupted him, his voice cool, “Shane showed me once.”

His hands stopping, Rick lifted his head up and gave his son a look. “A’right—” he drawled out after a while, choosing to ignore what was left behind that statement. He didn’t want to fight. Not anymore. They seldom talked about Shane now, so seldom mentioned his name…as if…as if…his once partner, the man who possibly saved his family when this all had started had never existed in their life... And—and despite everything, Rick still preferred it to stay that way. He—he couldn’t talk about Shane.

“Tie one on both ends,” Rick continued instead and took the thick branch he’d found earlier from the ground beside his feet and drove it in the earth. “Then tighten one side to a branch. You can even put on some notches around it, so it’d hold better—” He pointed round the branch. “Now you put it in front of this little hole and hide it with leaves.” He demonstrated it, gathering up the fallen leaves to hide the snare and took other small twigs from the ground. “Then you put sticks all around it, so the animal going by have to run this way right into the trap.”

Pulling back his hands, he showed the finished work to his son. “Got it?”

Carl nodded. “Okay—” Rick said. “Your turn. Try it.”

Looking at him, Carl nodded, then started searching for branches and twigs like he’d done, as Rick pulled up at his feet, watching him. His teenage boy found first the big stick he would need, and Rick decided that it was time to have the talk now. “What you did last night, son,” he started then, “was very reckless, careless, and irresponsible.”

Rick also wanted to say stupid, but he didn’t want to hurt Carl any further or get him defensive. Nevertheless, it seemed his words worked, because Carl nodded, his head still bowed as he searched the ground for his snare. “I know—” the teenager said. “I—I tried to apologize Beth this morning, but she—she ain’t even looking at me now.”

Swallowing a lump through his throat, Rick bobbed his head a little, too. “She—you both went through something horrible. Something you should’ve never experienced. She’ll get over it, but she needs time.”

Still not looking at him, Carl nodded, picked up his twigs and branches, and walked back to the tree beside him. He crouched down in front of the tree. “I—I wish she didn’t come.”

“She wanted to help—” Rick said, looking down at his son. “Because she cares about you.”

Carl bowed his head again, looking at the rope. “I—I feel bad.”

“You _should_ —” Rick said, his gaze still on him as Carl just kept looking at the ground. “Carl, look at me, son,” he told his boy softly, kneeling down in front of him on one knee.

Carl listened to him this time and lifted his head up. “What happened last night _wasn’t_ your fault, but you still need to take responsibility of part of it, of your actions,” Rick went on. “You should apologize to Beth, and apologize to Amanda, too. You told her very rude things yesterday.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Carl’s eyes got heated with a sudden fire. “She—she _wants_ me to apologize to her?” he asked, his tone taking a heat as well.

Rick shook his head. “No. Of course not. She wouldn’t want you to do it, but _I_ want it.”

Carl stayed silent, bowing his head at the twigs and rope again. “Son, I—I’m truly sorry for what happened, and you—learned it—uh-the way you did—” Rick paused for a second, still trying not to think about _it_. “And I know it’s hard for you, too, but it’s there. I didn’t plan for it,” he told his son truthfully, because he really didn’t… Falling in love…it wasn’t in his plans, but it—it… “But it’s happened,” he completed his thought aloud, and added after a second. “And I don’t regret it, son.”

Rick realized once again his words were true as he spoke them; that he didn’t regret it…like he’d told Amanda, he didn’t regret anything happening with her.

His eyes still at the rope, Carl still stayed silent. “Your mother—” Rick continued. “I—I’ll always love her, Carl, always. She gave me you—you and your sister, but you already know we had problems.”

Carl nodded. “I know, dad.” He finally lifted his head. “I—I want you to be happy—and Amanda is cool. I know she cares about Judy, too. I—I just don’t like it.”

Rick nodded slowly. “I know. It’s okay. We both know how you feel. We understand.”

“And?” Carl asked, frowning, his eyes turning to him.

“And you still have to accept it, son.”

Carl bowed his head again, giving a shrug. Rick decided to take it as positive. “Give Beth flowers,” he recommended the teenager, remembering the way he used to apologize to Amanda. “Make it a full bouquet.” He thought of giving Amanda one too, not to apologize or anything but just because he _wanted_ to because it’d make her happy. Rick wanted to make her happy. And he was going to do it, soothe her quills, get her relaxed and calmed down, just how she was in his arms… It was his job now, too.

Carl lifted his head up at him again from his knot. “Flowers?”

Rick gave his son another nod. “Girls like flowers.”

“Dad—about last night—what you did—” his son told him suddenly. “Thank you.”

Rick shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me, son. I’m your father. It’s my job.”

Carl gave him a heavy look. “You told me once that a smart woman told you kids had to learn to fly the nest before you let me go to the fences. Was that really Amanda?” he questioned.

“Yes.”

“Well, I guess, she’s at least cool and smart—” Carl said with a sigh, standing up, finishing up with his snare. Rick let out a small laugh at that, then stood up, too.

He held his son at his shoulders tightly and tilted his head to look at him in the eye. “Son, I already told you this once, but I need you to hear it again,” he slowly stated to the teenager. “No more kid stuff,” he repeated his older remark firmly, staring at him openly. “We are not safe. No matter how many people are around or how clear the area looks, no matter what anyone says, no matter what you think, we are _not_ safe.” For a second, Rick feverishly wished he could drill the words through him, carve them into his bones, into his veins. Last night…it was so close… _so_ damn close. “There are people out there who are worse than the dead,” he said the stark truth openly. “People who wouldn’t care if they hurt us or not, people who would even enjoy it. You saw it last night. Never let your guard down, never act reckless, never do stupid.”

Carl nodded. “I want you to promise me, son,” Rick pressed further. He needed to hear it. He _needed_ to hear the words from his son. They’d come so close, so _close_ …

“I promise, Dad.”

Letting out a sharp breath, Rick finally nodded, satisfied. “Let’s go back to the cabin then.”

As they walked back, Carl asked him, too— “Terminus—we’re going there, Dad?”

Rick jerked his head half in affirmative. “Yeah. Tomorrow,” he answered. “We need to take this day off. Calm down. Tomorrow we’ll leave.”

Bowing his head again as they paced slowly, Carl then asked. “When we get there, we’ll tell them?”

“Tell them what?” Rick asked, giving him a side look.

Carl’s eyes momentarily found his. “Tell them what happened to us—” Carl replied. “—Tell them what we did to survive?”

Rick turned his eyes ahead, trying to find an adequate answer…the things they did to survive… He remembered the taste over his tongue, copper and metallic, the blood in his mouth… And his cries under the moonlight to the man who had once called brother… _You did this, not me…not me…_ just after he’d stabbed him in the heart after promising him that they could turn back… The path they walked—It was paved with blood and loss, and betrayal, but they weren’t far gone…not yet. “We tell them who we are, son—” Rick told his son finally after a long pause.

“And who are we, dad?” Carl asked, and Rick heard a loss inside his tone, but his answer didn’t hesitate.

“We’re people living with a simple code, Carl,” he said with a clear, certain voice. “We kill the dead and don’t hurt the living unless they try to hurt us or others.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I finally made Carl and Rick having this talk, Rick telling Carl about Amanda's code!  
> Again, this chapter was hard to deal with the aftermath, and I'm afraid I'm still not done yet, there's still Beth&Amanda stuff I need to deal before I make them leave for Terminus.  
> And I swore that I also forgot Rick taking the guns at the last chapter, a stupid error, then I realized that would actually make an excellent justification to make them linger around further before they leave for Terminus! Lol :D
> 
> And, of course, Amanda would just start having an anxiety attack at the new day with her realization of her feelings, and would freak out, and her usual fears from Adaptation starts again as well, until now they were hidden away, but as her attachment grows, the fear of losing it grows as well. And Rick's in his "gotta keep her happy. My job." The classic family man. I'm playing with it here as well, it's fun.  
> The next chapter I think we'll finally start moving on! I've got some ideas :D  
> Like always, comments are just love, and my greatest motivations! Would like to hear from you--hope you still enjoy reading as much I enjoy writing. Cheers.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, I'm back! Sorry for the lateness, but life is getting--normal again! Work is hectic, too, and I'm finally becoming more social so I possibly won't have a lot of time anymore for frequent updates. And seriously, this is the second month I started this story, and two months, I've managed to put up some 30 or so chapters, circa 200k words! INSANE. Because I also did it with Better World, too! Gotta love social isolation, he he :D  
> But I'll still try to update once in a week. Hopefully.  
> And Dear Guest, you've been a great motivation during the last week, and believe me, I wouldn't have updated this *soon* if you didn't ask me for the new chapter! So, thank you for that. I really appreciated it. It's so great to see people are still enjoying reading, and excited for new updates. Thank you again.  
> I really struggled with this chapter a lot too, as I couldn't concentrate enough, but I hope it's still good. Enjoy! (We're also starting with a new POV character. Joan, this time!)

**XXXVII.**

A bolt whistled in the air quietly as Joan looked at the carnage that lay ahead of her. It hit a sole rotter that was slowly feasting upon one of the fallen corpses right through the decaying head, and unceremoniously the dead thing dropped over the corpses.

The former nurse wasn’t surprised, even though they were almost a quarter of a mile away from the little clearing out of the tree line. The man was like a damn Robin Hood, without the stealing from the rich and giving to the poor part. No, he’d been only providing for them since the time he found them in the cabin, bringing them food and water, keeping watches and all those manly things men liked doing so they could keep boasting how magnificent they were.

All in honesty, the former nurse didn’t mind how it started at first at Grady. At _first_ , it’d been good, being taken care of, provided for, sheltered securely behind the walls that the other people kept protected. Having someone was good, too, not being alone, like she found a safe haven to take refuge in a tempest, but as she figured out later, things seldom stayed the way they were. Everything changed. Especially people. Especially _men_.

The former nurse was half expecting the hunter to come to her to demand some appreciation from her now, for the things he was doing for her, because nothing really came for free. Everything had a price, but so far the hunter had done nothing.

Hell, he hadn’t even talked to her more than a few words and quick directives as if coming to the rescue of people he hardly knew in the middle of the night was just something he did regularly in these times.

With his brooding silence and looks, the hunter reminded Joan of an owl—a creature of night, always watching, observing, but never making a sound. The way he acted started to irk her, too, and Joan realized she would feel a lot better if he _actually_ came to ask for some appreciation. But perhaps Amanda was right. Perhaps they really were good people. Amanda Shepherd had a way to dig out the goodness from the least expected places.

In the prison, Joan didn’t really care, as she’d started to earn her own living, not only _buying_ it, and she was a fully trained ER nurse. Everyone treated her with the same sort of respect that they also showed the old vet, and she was the best of Shepherd’s flock. They had called them that in the prison, Joan had heard, even laughed… _Shepherd’s flock._ She even went to a supply run together with them, learned how to shoot well, how to kill rotters… Her hand went to her gun on instinct. The way the metal thing made her feel… No…never again, Joan had promised herself when she escaped. Never again she was going to be bought. Never again she let a man diminish her that way.

“C’mon—” the hunter urged with that heavy southern accent, walking with that swagger. He motioned at her with his head, not even casting a glance in her direction. The man carried himself with that…southern redneck disposition to a T. Wordlessly, Joan nodded and started following him like she’d been doing since the time her friend teamed them up yesterday.

The thought was absurd, but perhaps they were just becoming partners, him as her mentor, her training officer, the way Amanda used to be with Officer Lamson. She’d never seen them before the world went crazy, and their paths had crossed. Hell, Joan wasn’t in the same state with them. She’d moved to Atlanta from Ohio a year prior to the turn, wanting a change of scenery following up a messy break up. And she’d wanted a _real_ change of scenery—something different than from the sterile, Northern lifestyle she’d had since her birth, and Atlanta, in the South but still having the big city atmosphere, seemed to her perfect.

 _Her plans…_ Pushing her mind off her old plans, she focused on the new ones. Her plan.

She—she had to truly learn how to survive in this new world. She used to be an ER nurse, could dress an amputation in less ten minutes with steady hands, could take care of an open wound to the bone in three minutes even without breaking a sweat. She dealt with life-and-death situations on a daily basis and took a coffee break between. How— _how_ could she have let things come to this?

The thought soured her, her lips pulling downward, then she stopped, her feet halting her steps as she fully saw the scene in front of her. Since they’d escaped from Grady’s protective cocoon, death and gore became common nuisances for her, too, but she’d never seen this many dead—truly dead people. And knowing that these people had been killed singlehandedly by a lone man…

A shiver passed through her. Joan tried to suppress it. Her police officer friend didn’t give them details for what had happened after they returned last night, or this morning, but Joan still understood. From the solemn looks, tensed air, and the wound in the young girl’s hand, she understood. Her eyes moved toward a blue car, a trail of blood ran across its hood, and shivered. This time, she couldn’t stop it.

The hunter noticed it. He gave her a side look, but like always, he said nothing. He motioned her with another brief head shake. “Let’s get the guns—” was all he said, striding to the walking corpse he’d just put down. He pulled his bolt free, putting his boot on the rotter’s back for leverage. “More might be coming—”

In silence, Joan nodded and started walking toward the dead body to her left. His body was untouched by rotters so far, but it was still almost mutilated—

Joan was an ER nurse, she’d seen blood and gore, she’d seen wounds, she had seen infections, she knew how the puss smelled from an infected wound… She knew all of them, yet still, she started at the body, a part of her still wanted to vomit. She knew what these sonofabitches would’ve done if the Deputy didn’t do what he’d done, but still—Her eyes shifted to the man’s throat—the ripped up flesh, nerves and muscle tissues. It looked like the bastard was attacked by a wild thing of the woods, and she guessed, she really could say that. Joan had heard that part of the story. Yes.

The deputy was truly like a wild thing, she’d gathered that long ago, and another part wanted to warn her friend, too, wanted to tell her to be careful, wanted to tell her things always changed, escalated, although Amanda Shepherd was possibly the last woman in this rotting earth needed to be reminded of that fact.

Amanda said before that Rick was different than Gorman—had a sort of decency that her bastard of an ex-boyfriend had been lacking from the very beginning, and for all their sakes, Joan hoped her friend were right. Even their relationship had started with a disaster like _this_. Joan _hated_ to think what a fall out between them would be like.

She shook her head, her eyes cast down at the dead body as the tracker crouched beside the dead man and started clearing his weapons. “So freakish,” Joan muttered, her eyes on the ripped out throat, and understood she’d spoken aloud when she heard her voice.

The roughish redneck craned his head up toward her, turning aside, this time eyeing her openly. “He did what he had to.”

A wild thing—a wild animal protecting his own—a wolf protecting his pack at all cost—then Joan noticed it.

The dead bodies—all of them, they were put down—permanently. All of them had a clear head wound that stopped them from reanimating. She wondered if it was still an act of mercy, or he was just being pragmatic, eliminating a security risk. She couldn’t decide, she couldn’t tell... Her eyes found the hunter, and she asked suddenly, “Why did you come to look for us?”

Because a part of her was also wondering, each hour he kept his distance, a part of her was asking herself why. Why he’d come—why he had risked his own life in the middle of the night…because she couldn’t tell, either…

“Why did you help Shepherd, Beth, and Maggie to escape?” the man asked her in return.

Joan shook her head, almost letting out a bitter sound. “It wasn’t like that.” Joan knew what she was as clearly as she knew what she _wasn’t_. She always knew why she accepted when Amanda had come to her with her offer to seduce Gorman. She’d accepted because it’d been _easier_ , and she’d enjoyed it, god burn her soul, she’d enjoyed it, enjoyed being his queen, enjoyed its perks, parading in those pristine clean corridors, doing _nothing_ _._ She enjoyed it until it turned to something else. “I did it for myself—” she confessed, swallowing lowly, lowering her eyes, something—something very akin to …shame—shame with her very existence finding her. Her own reality. That she didn’t mind being bought with pretty little things and with the offer of a false security.

She paused a second before she continued plainly. “I was trying to save _myself_. I know if I stayed there, either I was going to kill myself, or he was going to do _it_ for me as well.”

“You fought back,” he stated, turning away and not knowing what to say to that, Joan shrugged. Taking the rifle in his other hand, the hunter stood up and waved his other hand at the other men. “Go pack their shit. We need to get going.”

Realizing it was the end of the short conversation, Joan turned and started gathering the guns, feeling glad. She found a duffel bag with one of the men, and opening it, she saw they had hit the jackpot. Inside she encountered more guns, a few _full_ boxes of bullets, a couple of hunting knives, and a red handled machete—early Christmas.

“Hey—” she called out, turning aside to her companion. “Look at this—” She jiggled the black bag a bit. “It’s early—” She stopped in mid-sentence as the tracker suddenly spun on his heel, his crossbow already raised against his shoulder, ready—then he stopped as a woman—a woman completely covered with blood—a woman with half grey hair walked out from the tree line.

The hunter looked at the woman for a few seconds from a few yards away, as if casted of stone, then did something Joan would’ve never _ever_ expected him to do.

He dropped his crossbow, started trotting toward the woman, almost running, and hugged her fiercely.

# # #

“I don’t like this,” Beth broke the silence, her voice as sharp as a double edged sword while they sat in front of the cabin almost idly, as Amanda extended a fig to her. “I don’t want to wait,” Beth continued as she refused her offering, shaking her head.

Giving the young girl a side look, Amanda barely restrained a sigh. “I know, Beth—” she said after a second, before she started nibbling the ripe fruit herself. “But we need to cool down. You need this.”

“I’m fine—” Beth’s answer came quickly, her tone still the same. “I want to find Maggie.”

“So do I,” Amanda countered, overlooking the declaration. Crisp, blunt, and distant, Beth seemed fine, at least on the surface, but Amanda knew damn well when someone was acting as if everything were okay. She was the queen of pretending after all, always holding up her own mask.

It hurt her seeing the usually hopeful teenager like this, something resonating deeply wrong in her. Amanda was glad to see the girl back on her feet, but it still came to her…wrong. This _wasn’t_ Beth… Beth wasn’t supposed to be like this, and the familiar feeling of guilt was there again as if Amanda was failing her once more… Amanda slanted another look at her, taking another bite from the fruit slowly…just to do something. At least she looked more collected than last night when she’d asked that damn question Amanda asked herself countless times… _Why did they do this to us?_

Hearing it from Beth was even worse, plain awful, as much as her answer - the reality that those bastards acted like that way simply because they _could_ —because they thought they could get away with it in this lawless world, because they thought no one would stop them anymore—

Well, that wrong estimation had cost them their lives. Because someone stopped them. The man she _loved_ , to be precise. Her lips pulled up a bit, her eyes looking for Rick as he wandered around the tree line across from them with Carl.

They’d left for foraging after Daryl and Joan had left the cabin to retrieve the guns. They weren’t far away, just like they’d gone to set up snares, always carefully keeping the cabin in clear sight, and Amanda knew the reason, too… Her damn feelings started rushing through her again, flooding her more. It was hard to tell why she was that cross with him this morning—

Well, she knew the _reason_ , but—god!

Being in love was getting very distracting!

She needed to talk to Beth, get the girl open up to her, get her talking. Beth shouldn’t keep what she was going through bottled up inside… and here she was also being a hypocrite? She’d almost freaked out this morning when Rick tried to get her to open up about the way she had behaved last night, because he didn’t want _her_ to keep it inside.

But Beth and her…it was different. Beth was her friend, the little sister she’d never had. Besides, it wasn’t about _her_. It was about Beth, and she had to be there for the girl. That was what friends and family did. It was still Greene blood that coursed through her veins. What she learned this morning had worried Amanda even more, and she wasn’t really liking this cold and distant Beth. She wiped her sticky hand with the ripe fruit over her pants as she swallowed the last bite of the fig.

One good thing now, at least Rick and Carl seemed to have a much easier manner interacting with each other. Amanda couldn’t talk to Rick much after they’d returned from setting up the snares, but she knew it was just a lame excuse to bring Carl away from the cabin to have a chat.

After their return, they looked like they’d reached an understanding. Amanda felt glad, and that tightness in her chest eased a bit. Carl still didn’t talk to Beth yet, but the way he carried himself was less tense, so it was a start. They were going to heal, she told herself again. First heal themselves, then heal each other. They weren’t going to let those sonsofabitches ruin them, ruin what they had.

Once inside the cabin, Rick gathered them, the adults, and they talked about it for a few minutes. In less than an hour, Joan and Daryl left to look for the guns as Rick and Carl went out gathering pecans, berries, and fruits. Amanda stayed with the kids, Noah, and Beth. She took Beth out to pick figs from the tree in the backyard, then they sat down in front of the cabin, as Noah babysat Mika and Judith inside.

Over the tree lines, she spotted Rick and Carl again. Rick had done his job. It was her turn now. She turned to Beth. “Hey, let’s find some acorns again so we could make that mash again when Rick and Carl bring pecans and berries,” she suggested, deciding to go with Rick’s way of handling his talk with Carl.

Even though the cabin had offered them some stuff, they were still spare of anything. Besides a few packages of old stale crackers and some barbecue seasoning, they’d found nothing else edible. Amanda guessed whoever the owner was, he hadn’t visited this old hunting shack for a long time even before the turn. Luckily as hunting accidents might happen, there were still a few bandages beside the little cabinet where the first-aid kit was stashed, so they treasured them both for Beth and Judith. Amanda had saved the half for Judith and also found an old sheet in the bedroom inside the little drawer beside the low cot mattress. She made makeshift diapers out of them, cutting them as long pieces then quickly stitched them together thick enough to hold any liquid. The bandages were good too, so they used them as well.

Judith’s bag… even that had stayed in the funeral home when they ran for their lives. Didn’t matter, she told herself. They would always find diapers when they were back to their feet and went to a supply run, or—or they—they simply would start washing the sheets if they had to. It wouldn’t be fun, but they would do it. People used to do it for centuries. She let out a sigh inwardly… She hoped the fabric would hold—She cut off her fretting. Later…they were all problems for later, she reminded herself again.

Now, she needed to do this. So Amanda continued with the safe topic. “Judith will need to eat again soon.” This, Beth couldn’t say no even in her current situation. “Let’s find her more than squirrel meat.”

They ate the squirrels before Joan and Daryl left, but Amanda wanted to diverse the baby’s dietary as much possible. Just like she had expected, Beth nodded.

It was an offhanded nod, almost dismissive, but Amanda decided to look on the bright side again. She turned aside and reached toward the cabin’s half open door. She cracked it open further and poked her head inside. “Noah, we’re looking for acorns,” she told the oldest boy. “Don’t leave the cabin.”

She really didn’t have to, they were just going to be a few steps away from the cabin to have a bit of privacy, but Amanda really didn’t want to test their luck further. She wasn’t even aiming for full foraging, something she didn’t even know how to do properly, something she still had to learn. Daryl—she needed to ask Daryl. The thought of being alone with Rick was still making her stomach coil…

Goddammit! Focus! She needed to stop acting like a foolish girl with a crush!

She—she needed to cool down. Rick was right on that. They needed to cool down. They needed this. All of them. She knelt on the ground and started picking up acorns, searching through the fallen leaves, and it was a harder job than it seemed. Beth handed her the scarf she had used earlier to gather the nuts, and Amanda took it gratefully.

“Rick left the guns there last night,” Amanda told her a few minutes later, breaking the silence.

She couldn’t explain why she felt like this but—but she wanted to make sure Beth knew she wasn’t the only one who was struggling with what happened, wasn’t the only one who was trying to cope, and there was nothing wrong with that. There was nothing wrong with struggling.

The trouble always started when you stopped struggling. Even harming yourself, trying to kill yourself would serve that point, Amanda knew, she understood. _She—only cut a bit,_ Rick had said. Instead of a suicide attempt, it sounded like a cry for help… But you also slowly destroyed yourself while doing it, piece by piece…inch by inch, gradually but meticulously, purposely. Amanda knew that, too.

There’d been times Amanda was afraid before, so afraid of—losing herself—drowning herself in her woes or alcohol or drugs. She knew where that path would lead her. She _knew_ what would happen to her if she started that road—sixteen, overdosed in some filthy bathroom or on the streets, buried in a homeless cemetery in an unmarked grave.

No. She didn’t want her own story to end like that. She’d decided that while standing in front of her childhood friend's grave after the first time she was shot at twenty-two years old. She felt so sorry, so deeply sorry that day, looking at her friend’s grave, telling her that… she was sorry… sorry for not being able to help her, sorry for doing nothing, sorry…not ever being able to tell her how much better she made her life for a bit, but still…she still didn’t want to be that girl. She didn’t want to—give up.

 _Life’s a struggle. You give up when you’re dead,_ she whispered that night in the dark. The next day, she went to headquarters and took back her resignation letter.

And, damn her to hell and back if she let Beth go down that path now!

“He forgot them,” Amanda repeated, returning to the present time from her memories. “Rick _forgot_ guns,” she said once _again_ , pointedly, making it even more clear. Rick Grimes forgetting guns… Beth ought to realize what it meant. “It isn’t _only_ you, Beth,” Amanda still clarified it for her. “We all need this. We need to take a breather.”

No. This wasn’t only _her_. Beth wasn’t alone in this. They were all struggling through it in their own ways.

After a short pause, Beth nodded, and when she spoke next, her voice sounded less blunt. “I know. I—I just want to go away.” She made another pause, running her eyes away. “I want it to end.”

Her confession broke something in Amanda. She felt her chest tightening, her breath hitching, and her eyes moistening. She swallowed silently, and reaching out, she held the young girl’s wounded hand gently. She knew the scars over her wrist were hidden under the cloth Joan had bandaged. 

“I know—" Amanda said softly as Beth bowed her head. “Sometimes I want it to end, too.” She paused, finding Beth’s eyes again, tilting her head down. “Rick—Rick told me what you did.”

Beth jerked her hand back with a sudden move, snapping her eyes away again, even though this time Amanda wasn’t sure if it was because of anger or shame… “Don’t be upset—” Amanda quickly uttered. “I asked because I was worried. I saw your wrist last night.”

Her eyes returned to Amanda. “Are you still worried?” Her voice came out rattled. Pissed.

“Being worried for a friend comes with the definition of the word, Beth,” she replied, keeping her own voice cool. “Of course I am.”

Beth’s gaze didn’t leave hers. “Do you think I’m weak?”

“No. You’re not weak,” Amanda answered. “People often confuse kindness with weakness. Those men, they had big muscles but small minds, Beth. They _were_ weak, slaves to their own gratifications, weak and stupid.” She shook her head. “Their friends—they could’ve just turned and walked away when they caught me and Rick in the woods. Just be decent human beings.” She paused. “But it takes a great deal of strength staying decent when things aren’t good.”

Trying to stay decent was hard in these indecent times, but perhaps it was why it mattered the most. It was easier to be good when everything was good. The real challenge started when it wasn’t. Sometimes it felt like it was a challenge they all had to face one day, if they had _not_ already.

“I wanted to be decent, too,” Beth said after a short pause, turning her gaze away again. “Wanted to do the right thing, wanted to help, but couldn’t stop them when they tried to hurt me.” Her eyes teared as she turned them again to Amanda. “If—if Rick wasn’t there—” She sobbed in a breath, swallowing the rest of her words.

“I felt so weak,” Beth confessed, forcing out the words after another pause. “You wanted to teach us how to fight, how to protect ourselves, but how—how could we protect ourselves against that?” She stopped and let out a sigh before she continued in a small voice.

“I—I wanted to kill myself after mom died, Amanda, because I thought it was pointless,” she said. “I—I thought I wasn’t going to last long anyway. People like me, we don’t last long, I know that.” As she shook her head, her voice became so hoarse. “I wish I really could change…be someone else, so it could be better. Someone like you or Maggie.”

“Do you think I’m strong?” Amanda asked, letting out an incredulous scoff. “I was a disaster, Beth. Couldn’t do anything. Last night—it…it was hard for me too. Seeing you and Carl getting hurt like that…” She heaved out deeply. “I wanted to leave after we came back from Grady because I felt so purposeless, Beth,” she then confessed. “Being a cop was all I ever had. I never had anything else. Then it was taken away from me. I wanted to—I honestly don’t know.” 

She shook her shoulders a little. “Perhaps a part of me even wanted to end it, too. I felt like a failure. My hatred for Gorman gave me a purpose, drove me back to my feet. A life without purpose is the awfullest thing. But then you found out. Remember?” she asked, a rueful smile half spreading over her lips, remembering the way Beth had acted learning it.

“You asked if this wasn’t enough for me,” Amanda continued. “Rick told me Gorman wasn’t important, wasn’t relevant, just one of the many sonofabitches out there. He told me it was us what mattered. And he was right, Beth. It’s _us_ what matters, not those bastards. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Then it happened, a small smile graced Beth's angelic features as Beth looked at her, the Beth she _knew_ — “So you’re basically telling me not to be stupid?”

Amanda smiled further, hearing her own words. _Well, basically he told me not to be stupid, Beth…_ “Terminus is there,” Amanda told her, nodding. “Maggie and Glenn are _there_. We’ll find them, honey, I promise. We’ll find them, and we’ll be fine again.”

Beth gave out a half sob, half laugh after that, and Amanda felt a bit better. “It wouldn’t hurt me to have a little bit of faith, huh?” she asked as she emptied the acorns in her unwounded hand into the scarf. “You should learn the lyrics of Parting Glass,” she told Amanda a second later, giving her a look. “So we can all sing it when we get back together.”

Staring at her, Amanda nodded. “Yeah.”

Beth nodded, then they continued to gather acorns in silence. After a while, fifteen or so minutes, Judith started crying again inside the cabin. Amanda had eased the baby to sleep before they’d left to pick the figs. Given their time in front of the cabin and their talk, that wouldn’t make even a full hour. Judith had already problems with sleeping even in the prison and being out in the woods wasn’t really doing wonders to her temper.

Quickly they trotted inside the cabin, and Amanda went to find the baby girl. Opening up the soft baby blanket Judith was bundled in, she first checked the makeshift diaper under the bodysuit and saw it was still clean. She wondered if she was hungry. Judith had already eaten this morning, but it wasn’t much, and it was getting close to noon now. They’d mixed crackers with figs and wild grapes Daryl had found. She turned to Noah. “We picked some acorns and figs. And there’re still the grapes Daryl brought this morning. Can you start smashing acorns?” she asked the young man. “We need to feed Judith.”

Noah nodded, taking the acorns from Beth’s good hand. Amanda turned to Mika. “You hungry, too, honey?” she asked the little girl.

Bowing her head, Mika nodded half, almost ashamed. “A bit—” she said with a small voice. “But I can wait until Judith’s okay, Amanda.”

Amanda shook her head, her chest tightening again. “No. It’s okay. There were a lot of figs on the tree. We picked a lot. You go and eat. There are a few crackers left. Eat them too.”

Her face lightening at hearing the words, Mika rushed toward the living room to take the figs on the table. Beth gave her a look, a knowing one. There weren’t a lot of figs at the tree. The ripe fruits were already half rotten in the late fall. Amanda had lied, because Mika had already eaten twice today, but Amanda didn’t care. She had never liked figs all that much. She swallowed, bundling Judith inside the blanket again and draping her across her right shoulder as the baby girl softly wheezed beside her ear, her small, plump hand already going through her hair…

She smiled fondly at the baby girl—shaking her head slightly and started walking outside to let her take in a bit of fresh air. Just before they left the little bedroom, Beth called out to her.

“Amanda—”

Tightening Judith in her arms, Amanda turned to look at the girl. Her doe-like enormous blue eyes held another glint as Beth looked at her and Judith, standing on the other side of the small room. When she spoke again, her voice had that sharp edge once more. “If Terminus isn’t what it’s supposed to be,” she started. “If they’re just another kind of monster, we kill them, too?”

Her eyes on the girl, Amanda simply nodded, for there wasn’t any other answer for that question anymore. “Yes.”

# # #

Amanda was trying to reach one of the branches in the heights of the fig tree, jumping to catch one of the big green leaves when Rick and Carl found her. After feeding Judith again, she left the baby girl in the bed with Mika, Noah, and Beth, and went out to check the fig tree. She wanted to make sure she hadn’t missed out any edible figs. It was a waste of time, she already guessed. They’d been very meticulous this morning clearing it off, but it still kept her busy, so Amanda did it.

It was _better_ than pondering on Beth’s question, and Terminus…and the future… She shook her head at herself. She was getting herself worried again. She should stop. This was good to no one—

“Hey—” Rick called out to her from behind as Amanda let go of the branch her fingers managed to clutch by the leaves above her head and turned around.

“Hey,” she greeted them, the father and son both looking at her as they suddenly lapsed into a silence.

It was one of the most awkward situations Amanda had ever found herself in as all of them stayed silent, staring at each other under the tree. She wondered what was going on, but then she noticed the little bouquet in Carl’s right hand. Her eyes narrowed a bit, and she shifted a look at Rick. He just kept gazing at her. “Um—” Amanda breathed out, breaking the silence. “Was checking the fruits again,” she muttered, even though she had no idea why. It must be quite obvious what she’d been doing.

Rick craned his neck, checking the heights. “I thought we cleared it good this morning,” he told her.

“Never hurt to try—” she mumbled with a shrug. Her eyes darted to the bouquet in Carl’s hand again as the teenager bowed his head. For a second, she thought Carl was going to give it to her, but he stayed motionless, his arms tight against his side. Amanda realized what was _really_ happening.

It— _it_ was clearly Rick’s doing, Amanda became sure as Carl just stood with his bowed head, holding his bouquet. The flowers weren’t meant for her, Amanda gathered, but _still_ she was going to get an apology.

She really wished Rick didn’t do it. She didn’t want Carl to be forced into it. Causing more damage to the father-son relationship was the last thing she wanted now. They really looked less tense today after their talk. Carl needed time, just as they all did. She wanted to talk to the boy on her own terms, wanted to make sure he knew she cared for them genuinely, not because to gain Rick’s favor. His snide, crude remarks had stung; the way Carl taunted her with ‘mommy’, telling her he wasn’t in the market looking for one. The words stung, yes, but the thoughts… No. Amanda didn’t want him to think like that, that she just tried to play on Rick’s affections as if they didn’t matter…They _mattered_. She’d been afraid of it, afraid that Carl would think just like that, and she wasn’t wrong.

She opened her mouth, started to tell them that there was no need, but before she could, Rick cleared his throat lightly.

“I’m sorry—” Carl said without further ceremony, lifting his head up. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Amanda nodded, accepting the simple but loaded apology. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do it,” she said, tossing Rick a quick, but pointed, look. “But thank you.” And she felt she should return the favor because she still felt it was their responsibility to act like adults, not some horny teenagers. “And I’m sorry, too,” she went on. “We should’ve acted more responsibly.”

In answer, Carl only shrugged in a manner of adolescent indifference. Well, she guessed it was something, at least better than that vacant look in his eyes from the last night. Adolescent indifference was good. It was normal for his age. They were healing, Amanda told herself again. They were going to be okay.

It was _just_ a bad day, a bad night, a bad coincidence, nothing else. Their lives couldn’t be defined by that. There was still beauty in this world, there was still decency. They were still here, they still existed… She looked at the flowers in Carl’s hand. She knew who they were for now; they were for Beth.

“Where’s Beth?” Rick asked in the brief pause that followed after their exchange again as if he read her thoughts.

Amanda returned her eyes to him. “Inside the cabin,” she answered. “Lounging with the kids.” She paused for a second, eyeing their hands again, and saw Rick also holding Daryl’s red cloth in his right hand. “Found pecans and berries?”

Rick brought his hand forward. “Persimmons, too,” he said, handing her the big cloth.

Amanda never had much love for that fruit, but nevertheless, she took the cloth from him, feeling grateful. She felt the moistness of the fruits as the cloth was already wet in some spots as his fingers brushed hers and almost made her tremble again. Amanda wanted to growl. She fucking needed to _stop_ like acting like a high school girl with a crush!

“Thanks—” she muttered, pulling her hand back as Carl started going inside the cabin.

She—she couldn’t let things go like this! “Carl!” she called after the teenager before he could take another step. “Can we—uh—can we talk for a minute?” she asked, her eyes skidding aside at Rick. “Alone.”

His indifferent manner slipping, Carl almost scowled before his expression became rigid again, and he nodded. Carefully eyeing them with his patented cop stare, blue, electrical eyes measuring you inch by inch, Rick announced, “I was going to make a perimeter check—” He turned to her. “I’ll find you later.”

 _Why_ came to the tip of her tongue, feeling panic that he might want to _talk_ again, but stopping herself at the last moment, she gave him a quick nod. Rick gave her a last look, then retreated to give them privacy.

“I know this is weird,” Amanda began after Rick was lost behind the cabin. “But I wanted—uh—I wanted you to know—” Her words struggled as a heat started rising out of her. She paused, shaking her head. “Wanted to make clear—” She cleared her throat lowly and spoke quickly. “Well, I wanted you to know that I’m not trying to be your _mommy_ ,” she stated openly. At the heart of things, that was what she’d been accused of. “I sincerely care about you and your sister,” she continued. “And it’s nothing to do with your dad. I think you’re a very brave young man, even though you acted stupid last night.”

Momentarily, there was that look in Carl’s eyes again after Beth turned away from his gaze as he looked at her last night on their way back, that vacant stare, deep but…blank.

No. Carl wasn’t that boy. He wasn’t a lost boy. He was struggling, Amanda had seen it. She hoped her words wouldn’t sound placating, but they were also the truth itself, and she wanted him to hear them. Sometimes you just needed to hear them… “You’re a good man, Carl, and Beth knows it, too.”

He was silent again at first, his eyes narrowed, searching hers. “But how do _you_ know?” the question came a few seconds later.

“Because I saw you in the prison,” Amanda answered without hesitation. “I saw how much you wanted to help. I saw how much you care.”

“And that alone makes me a good person?” Carl asked, still looking at her.

Her answer was as simple as she’d given Beth. “Yes.”

Because sometimes it made all the difference in the world.

# # #

When Rick returned to the cabin later, he heard the melodic, angelic voice before he opened the door and walked inside. He recognized the voice fairly enough. Beth—Beth was singing.

As Rick stepped inside, he found them sitting on the floor in a circle, with Amanda holding Judy across her lap again as his baby girl tried to crawl away like she usually tried to do whenever they settled her down. Mika was at her left side, and Carl at her other side. Noah was across from Carl as Beth sat across from Amanda as she sang. Dazed and confused at the scene, sunlight haloing them through the tinted glass, lighting them up dustily, Rick recognized the lyrics—recognized the song…

_And drink a health whate'er befalls… Then gently rise and softly call… Good night and joy be to you all…_

Beth’s soft melodic voice sounded like a prayer Rick felt deep inside as he felt a small smile parting his lips. His eyes moved and found Amanda’s as she looked back at him. Just a look, and as if she read something in it, she stood up, giving Judy to Carl and coming to his side.

“Hey—” she greeted him, returning his small smile with hers. “Beth was teaching us this song,” she started explaining as Rick watched her. The way she looked…beautiful… so beautiful… “They used to sing in their homeland—” She paused a little. “Well, not in their homeland exactly, I think,” she went on. “She said it’s Scottish but also they also sing—”

His smile growing, Rick shook his head. “I know what the Parting Glass is, Amanda,” he told her. “Beth and Maggie sang it for us the first night we found the prison.”

Amanda nodded. “I know. Beth told me. That’s why she is teaching us,” she said. “So we can all sing it in Terminus when we find each other again.” Her smile grew more…and she looked like that shy, coy little girl once more… “You know—group spirit and whatnot—”

Struck, Rick continued to watch her…his face smiling, his eyes smiling… He wanted to lean forward and kiss her, wanted to wrap her in his arms, resting her against his chest, and taste her sweetness… He wanted to have her taste on his tongue, not copper metallic, her... His eyes flicked at her lips. Catching his gaze, hers found his, too. Amanda darted a look aside, towards where the group was sitting behind them—toward Carl.

Rick wondered what they talked after he left them alone, but given that they were all sitting together, singing, Rick knew it went well. He’d always known it, knew that Amanda would manage to bring them together. She had a unique ability for that, always managing to find a common ground, managing to reach people. Carl and Beth seemed less tense together now, and in front of the teen girl, there was the bouquet Carl had picked for the girl, and at that moment, Rick realized what he _really_ wanted to do.

“Find me in ten minutes in the backyard—” he told her, already turning away to go out.

Amanda grabbed his elbow to stop him, giving him a pointed look. “Rick—no—” she whispered, shaking her head. “No more slipping away. We _can’t_ do it.”

Rick gave her another small smile. “It _ain’t_ that,” he assured her. He still wanted her, so badly, so very badly, but it wasn’t that. “No. I just want to show you something.”

“What?” she asked, her face losing the closed off demeanor. “What happened? Something is wrong?”

Rick gave a little head shake, taking a step further. “No,” he assured her again. “Nothing’s wrong. Don’t get worried. Just want to do something before Daryl and Joan come back, and we start planning.”

With his words, her expression shifted again, her eyes had that wary look. “Rick—”

He cut her off. “No sexy things,” he told her quickly. “I promise. Just find me in ten minutes,” he repeated.

This time she nodded. “’kay—”

With her agreement, Rick left the cabin. He started walking around, keeping time inside his head before she would come and find him. The lack of his watch was worse in the woods, and the thought momentarily soured his mood, but adamantly, Rick pushed it away.

Today was a good day. They were all together. Alive and together. Safe.

Because Rick had done his job well this time, had kept them that way.

And he was doing another thing he wanted—just because he could, because he knew it would make her happy. Rick wanted it, wanted her happy. He wanted to _make_ her happy, wanted her to smile. He wanted to see his family happy.

He ripped a strip from Daryl’s red cloth. Daryl and Joan might be returning in any minute. They’d been away since the morning, and Rick really wanted to do this before they came back. He started gathering the stems close and tied them together. He added a bow too, and looked at his handiwork.

He nodded to himself. It didn’t look so bad.

Amanda showed up a few moments later as Rick was shifting flowers in the bouquet, mixing the colors. Amanda liked yellow and blue the most, he’d noticed. She stopped dead in her tracks seeing him, her eyes stuck on the flowers.

No sexy things… just flowers, not to apologize to her for anything, but just to make her happy. Just to see her smile at him… Under her bowed head as she still looked at his hands, dazed and confused as much as Rick had been upon seeing them sing. Her eyes raised up to his, and she whispered, “Rick—”

Rick walked to her and leaning forward, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek, handing her the bouquet. “Just wanted you to have this.”

She swallowed, lifting her head up, too, then her lips parted earnestly as she smiled at him, and Rick thought again beautiful, so beautiful, dirty, bloodied, sweaty, but still so beautiful, and happy—smiling at him, just the way he wanted her to be—Suddenly they were in the warehouse at Grady again as she laughed with him, alive and happy—

Amanda rose up on her tiptoes, and gave him a quick kiss, her lips lingering over his rough bearded skin. “Thank you for proving yet again chivalry hasn’t _really_ gone extinct—” She stopped for a second as Rick laughed, and waited her to finish it with another teasing sheriff, but her eyes found his, and she muttered, “baby—"

And Rick loved how the word rolled off her tongue… the hoarse, throaty word vibrating in his insides. He wanted her to call him that all the time, and with much more—much more—baby, honey, sweetheart, love—my love.

_My love._

Her voice called him just like that in his mind—the way the words would roll over her tongue silkily, or how she would moan them out at the back of her throat huskily as Rick would stroke himself inside her slowly, so slowly, so gently, like he used to dream—no rush, no blazing lust—just them…not fucking…but…but…making love… He knew it sounded cheesy, but he wanted it… He—he wanted to make love to her, wanted to—

_Crack—_

The sound cut like a blade through his…daydream. Their heads snapped to it at the same time as twigs crunched again from their left. Their hands went toward their hips at the same time before Joan came out of the tree line.

Rick eased off his hand as Daryl followed. But they weren’t alone, someone else was walking at Daryl’s side, half covered by Joan’s body, Rick could only see a petite feminine form behind her before Joan stepped out completely from the trees, and his line of vision cleared. Rick saw—he stared—

Amanda sucked in a sharp breath beside him, seeing the third person. All of them were silent, even Joan. They stood in front of them as Amanda lowered her hand with her bouquet at her side. She glanced at him as Rick still stared ahead—to the newcomer.

“Hello, Rick,” Carol greeted him.

# # #

The metal made a loud clatter as they secured the hatched door of the container behind them, then there was only darkness.

Maggie stood beside Glenn, holding his hand tightly, only one prayer left to her—only one message she wanted to let out now...

_Beth…stay away…stay away…_

Stay the hell away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So!!!! CAROL IS BACK!  
> I debated with myself long to bring back who--I went between Michonne and Carol. First it was Michonne, as I wanted to play with Amanda's jealousy seeing her interacting with Carl very close, and getting jealous, but for story purposes I thought Carol works better, because now whole Terminus plot is gonna be upside down as Carol is with them.  
> I mean, who's gonna save them now? He he :D
> 
> I hope Beth and Amanda's talk was good--I swear I struggled with it so much, I wanted to cry. I still want to keep Beth true to the core of her character, but still breaking the bad with her a bit slowly, as she starts questioning what would happen if Terminus was bad. The themes are wrapping up, I guess, and I'm glad I finally added Joan's POV too, and her wariness of Rick. It's kinda ironic that I got my inspiration for her from Lori, lol. Shane was like my Gorman, you know. Joan was a bit like Lori, at the start, but she got wised up after her ordeal. I guess if Rick wouldn't have come back, Lori would've ended up like Joan's position as well if she ever wanted to finish things with Shane.  
> Beth and Amanda's discussion about the weakness was something I wanted to do, and I used her own confession to Daryl before they burned that cabin in the show. I also wanted to get Amanda telling Carl too he's good because he cares. I REALLY hope I managed these parts good.  
> And of course, "my love" part! Just wanted Rick to have that moment, giving Amanda flowers again, a whole bouquet this time.  
> Oh my god, I missed making my looong author notes. LOL!
> 
> So, like always, hearing from you is always a great motivation, so let me know what you think!  
> Hope to see you again soon!


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, I'm back. I think it's safe to say now I'll be able to update in every ten days, but as it takes more time to finish the chapters, I'm getting more wordy. This chapter hit almost 10k words. I couldn't just finish it before I came where I wanted. A few things happen, Carol is back, we learn a few things, and Amanda and Rick have a 'talk'. The end will a have very disturbing mention, this's the fair warning. My usual warning stands, this is a TWD story, so please, expect everything.  
> Enjoy.

**XVIII**.

Clear as the sky above, their life was never short of surprises.

As he stood beside her, his body tensed like a drawn bow, Rick was still staring at the older woman who was standing still behind Daryl and Joan. Joan's face had a dazzled look as Daryl looked more taciturn than ever.

Amanda thought it odd. She would expect the roughish tracker would be happy to see Carol again. She’d heard they'd been close, but Amanda herself had seen it so shortly before Carol’s banishment. Her eyebrows drew up an inch, her eyes shifting first to Joan as her dark curly haired friend stayed motionless, then Rick again.

Even if Rick were surprised, there was no sign of it over his gaunt expression. His face was as blank as Daryl's, but Amanda wondered if the reasons were the same. Daryl knew what had transpired between Rick and Carol—but, suddenly she stopped—her thoughts stopped as she understood fully what this encounter was entitled to bring up at the end. Mika and Lizzie.

As soon as Carol saw Mika, she would want to know what had happened to Lizzie. A fright took her, and Amanda felt a shiver running over her spine. When Beth had asked her what had happened, Amanda had been able to get away with telling her _them_ —Rick and she happened, but Carol…Carol wouldn't take that elusive answer. She would want to know more.

For better or worse, Carol was a mother figure for the sisters, had taken care of them even before the girls had lost their father. How could she stand there and tell a mother that her child was losing her mind, and the adults' fight drove Lizzie even further to the point of wanting to go to a better place? Was she—was she really ready for that talk? No. She wasn't. Perhaps never. Sometimes it was better not to know. Sometimes she wished she hadn't found her friend later, either—in her thoughts, her friend could always be happy, not buried in an unmarked grave at the homeless cemetery…

Her eyes darted to Rick again, and she tried to read what he was feeling. Was he—was he having the same struggle she was? Amanda knew _him_ _,_ just the way he knew her. A part of him _was_ the man who thought to send the girls upstairs before Amanda cleansed his wound with the boiled wine, the part that just brought flowers to her to make her happy, but once again, Rick Grimes proved himself to not be the one who would wear his heart on his sleeve. Despite all the inner struggles he must be having, Rick's face was still expressionless as they kept staring at each other in silence.

Amanda bowed her head and looked at her hands, the colorful flowers in her hands, her bouquet. It felt— _she_ felt so inadequate with it, holding it in front of her as she watched the scene still.

She’d liked it, liked the sentiment, liked the fact Rick had _thought_ about it…cared enough to think; the kind, gentle man Amanda perhaps loved as fiercely as the wild beast that would do anything to protect his family. It'd turned her mushy again, as fluffy as a furball, but now her mushy, happy feeling was getting dimmed, what had been so natural and easy turning complicated again. Amanda was sure they were going to kiss. Before they were interrupted, Rick was about to kiss her again, and despite all of the cautionary tales about what would happen if they lost control, despite her thoughts and many objections, Amanda also knew she had been going to let him…again.

God, she was such a sucker sometimes.

She almost heaved out a tired sigh. She felt so tired…so tired… And she really must look inadequate holding a bunch of flowers in front of her as they got caught _again_ like high school sweethearts making out secretly in the backyard. Luckily, this time she'd kept her pants on. Suddenly she wondered if that was the reason why Carol was looking at Rick like that now, catching him giving her flowers. That really might've seemed odd, as well.

When Carol had still been around the prison, Rick and she had been at each other's throat…now _this_ … Her eyes dropped to the bouquet again, and on a brazen urge, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks, Amanda almost brought her hands behind her back to hide the bouquet… She wasn't a high school sweetheart! She _was_ a damn cop!

And there was she was, standing in front of them, looking at them keenly, the woman who had killed two people in cold blood, the same woman Rick had cast away because of the unapologetic pragmatism with which she defended her actions—the very same kind that she and Rick both had been utilizing on different levels every day since they lost the prison.

Lizzie's last moments assaulted her mind again, and swallowing lowly, Amanda pushed the memory away. No. She couldn't deal with this. Not now… Perhaps later…When they managed to get to Terminus and settle down, when everything slowed down a bit, when they came back from the wilderness, they could come clean, but not now. She couldn't deal with this _now_ , not after last night. Not after what happened with Beth and Carl. Both Carl and Beth had seen the real world, the ugliest face of it, how people would get cruel when they lost themselves, or show their true colors when they thought there was no one else, nothing else, no god, no jury, no watching eyes, no conscience to stop them. No. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.

She swallowed again, trying to keep her erratic emotions in check. Everything was in turmoil these days. Everything was in chaos since they’d lost the prison. Breaking free of her thoughts, Amanda forced her attention to shift to Daryl and Joan as they finally started walking toward them.

"We met while gathering the guns—" Daryl began explaining, and instead of thinking about the cruelty of the world they lived in, Amanda decided to turn her mind to the probability of an encounter like this. Gorman had found them by coincidence. She'd thought it fishy even then, wouldn't have believed it, but at least Gorman had a solid reason for coming up to the funeral home. It had been more than two months since Rick had brought her to the prison and sent Carol away the next day. The older woman was still around in the woods—alone…?

Something felt wrong with that. Her clothes, her skin, her hair. She wasn't anywhere close to being called clean like Amanda had been when she used to live at Grady, but Carol didn't look like…as wild as they did, and they'd been in the woods now like—five days in total? Keeping a tab on days had become such a struggle. But she was sure that it was less than a week since Amanda saw a tank in the front of their fences.

And damn! Carol really looked very clean for someone who was supposedly roaming in the woods for months.

Amanda opened her mouth to ask what her story was, because she clearly _must_ have one, but before she could voice it, Beth's head poked out around the cabin's corner. Carl was behind her, looking at Carol, while holding Judith close to his chest.

"Carol—oh my god!" Beth whispered, bringing up her unwounded hand over her mouth to cover it. "Is that really you?"

The sight—the sight made the world a bit better place, seeing Beth like that, quite happy to see the older woman again. No one, possibly with the exception of Daryl, had really known about what happened with Carol after Rick came back alone from the supply run, as if no one wanted to talk about it.

Beth seemed like she thought too much water had passed under the bridge since then, and perhaps it had. Moving on was such a pivotal part of their survival now, not looking back. They could all start over again, even Carol and Rick. Find a common ground, find a place…a home? If not Terminus, then somewhere else. They couldn't live in the wilderness forever. They had to come back.

As if to prove her right, the older woman's face loosened up, seeing the teenagers, and then Amanda knew none of them were gone that far away, not yet. In other times, she would've been the first one to call herself an optimistic moron, but _now_ she didn't care. She just wanted them to be together in peace, with a roof over their heads. Amanda never had big ambitions.

But Carol twisted aside, and for a second, even though no one talked, there was a deadly silence again, all of her simplistic wishes cruelly crushing down again in the face of the reality; the reality of a familiar katana sword that was loosely hanging over Carol's right shoulder. The same sword Amanda had seen Michonne handling with finesse, always having it close to hand… and now, Carol was carrying it.

And, Amanda knew what that meant.

Her eyes swept to Carl on instinct. Carl…Carl wasn't going to take this well.

Carl and the Afro-American woman were good friends, close in a way Amanda had never been with the teenager. Michonne was a recluse, always keeping her distance, but the woman had managed to form a bond with the teenager, bringing him comic books and stuff each time she went out for runs. Amanda had heard stories, had seen the way the boy looked at the woman with dreadlocks. In Carl's eyes, there was always respect and awe, something Amanda would wish to have, as well. Carl had a sort of respect for her, too. He'd even told Beth she was cool, but it was different with Michonne.

Michonne was his _friend_. Amanda, though, was only the woman who was trying to get into his daddy's pants. She tried to make sure it wasn't the case, but would the teenager believe her? All in honesty, if their positions were reversed, she would've thought the same thing.

Reading their looks, Carol shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "When I found her, it was too late."

"Is she—?" Carl asked in a small whisper, looking at the sharp sword. "Is she—dead?"

Wordlessly, Carol nodded.

Carl's expression turned distraught as the knowledge that he lost someone else close sunk in, tugging Judith closer in his chest. Amanda gulped, feeling helpless, but also realizing why Daryl was having that expression, more taciturn than ever…

The hunter had seen the sword. Daryl and Michonne had been close, too, Amanda had also noticed. Not close like that, yes, but still close in some way, just like Rick was with the woman, too. Rick and Michonne had mutual respect for each other, a silent admiration and appreciation… Suddenly Amanda realized the kind of diverse relations Michonne had with Carl, Daryl, and Rick, intimate, genuine, yet distant… _different_.

And, despite everything, it bugged Amanda in a way she didn't think would be possible, like something pinched in her chest, causing her a…heartache. Suppressing a grimace, Amanda pushed the thought away.

Carol slipped off the sling of the sword's sheath over her shoulder and clutched the sheath with one hand. "I found her three days ago in the woods," the woman explained. "She was circled by dead walkers. Killed more than a dozen. She fought them until the very end." She walked toward Carl and extended her arm out, holding the sword up in the air toward him. "Before she passed away, she asked me to give this to you if I ever saw you again." Carol gingerly shook the katana. "She wanted you to have it."

Still looking gaunt and distraught, Carl took the sword wordlessly with his free hand, and somehow the pinch in Amanda's chest grew deeper with the gesture, the meaning behind it… and although Amanda felt like a bitch, the pinch was still there, impossible _not_ to feel. As a frown pulled her brows together, Amanda realized that she was jealous of a dead woman once again.

When—how did she become this—petty, she didn't even know!

As an orphaned girl, Amanda wasn't foreign to petty jealousy. Sometimes even a simple thing like a cheap trinket would bring tears to your eyes, or happy families at TV, or worse Christmas movies, but it was easier to rationalize them as childhood bitterness and envy whereas now she just felt like a spiteful bitch. She wondered if that was a side-effect of being in love, too. Everyone spoke of irrational jealousy when they fell in love. Truth be told, this whole…being in love business was really starting to get on her nerves.

She could understand why she was jealous of Rick's ex-wife. The damn woman _was_ his wife, supposedly the love of his life. Rick had even admitted that he still loved her, so yeah, she had pretty good reasons to be jealous of the woman, but why the hell was she jealous of Michonne now?

It made no sense. And another part of her was also sad…she was tired of losing people. Even though they were never close, Michonne was one of them. _Them_. The notion hit her at the full force, the ease she'd claimed the word referring to someone not from her own inner circle. Was there truly a big, fat _them_ now?

God! She—she was losing it. She needed to get her shit back together. Too much, too fucking much, she felt like she was going to explode—

"Carol!" The loud exclamation snapped her back—literally, her spine straightening with the squeak-like, joyful cry as Mika ran toward Carol coming around the other corner.

Noah was following her, running with much less enthusiasm, his steps almost wary. Joan and Noah had never seen Carol, so Amanda could imagine the surprise seeing the scene, but Mika squeaked again with another "Carol!"

The joyful energy of the youth broke the tensed prolonged moment between them filled with unasked questions, strain, and death.

Carol looked at the little girl, the sight of Mika breaking her reserves completely, too. Her eyes moistened, the older woman threw herself on her knees on the ground, opening her arms wide to welcome the running girl into them.

Mika jumped into her waiting embrace. Amanda smiled at the mother-daughter reunion, a different kind of twinge tugging at her chest this time, for wholly different reasons. She felt…a longing deep inside. Her eyes skipped to Rick, then to Carl and Judith… She gulped around a lump in her throat as Carol sobbed. "Oh, sweetheart—" Amanda could hear the tears in the woman’s voice even though she couldn't see them as the older woman hid her face against the little girl's shoulder. Carol's relief, her teary joyful relief, made the twinge in Amanda's chest even worse, and her eyes started hurting, too…

Carol pulled back an inch, scooping the little girl's face between her hands. "Sweetheart…" the older woman mumbled again, giving a big, wet kiss to the girl's cheek, before her eyes wandered around them, checking… "Your sister…" Carol muttered, looking around searchingly—Amanda felt her heart stop.

Her insides turned cold as Carol's eyes found them, especially them—Rick and her as if on instinct, as if she _already_ knew… "Where is she?" the woman asked. "Where's Lizzie?"

# # #

The question froze them all.

Amanda's face paled, hearing it, white as sheet, a slight tremor passing through her hand that was still holding her bouquet for a second before she stilled herself.

Rick wanted to heave out a deep, loaded sigh. He was…tired, so tired… He didn't even know. He'd never expected to see Carol again, even though he knew the older woman would make it alone. Carol was a survivor, but still, Rick had never expected this. He had no idea where they stood. He didn't know anymore if he did make a mistake in sending Carol away. Things would've perhaps been different if Carol were with them when Lizzie and Mika found them in the prison, rescuing them.

Carol, in a way, also had saved his life, his and Amanda's, just by teaching the girls to protect each other, and Rick had failed them.

But Carol…Carol would understand? She—she'd killed two sick people just to make sure they would be safe. Rick hadn't killed…anyone. Lizzie—Lizzie had killed herself. His decision might've caused her reaction, but Rick _hadn't_ pulled the trigger. It wasn't only an excuse. He wasn't trying to justify his actions. He—he could live the consequences of his choices, and he’d made his choice. He'd made his bed, and now it was time to lie within it.

"We left the prison together," he started with clear voice, readying himself to come clean. He wanted all of them to know it. There was no excuse. This was the world they lived in now. Perhaps it was the violent, wild beast in him, too, but Rick had also accepted that. He so feverishly wished things would've been different, but no amount of wishful thinking would change the past or how the things were now.

"We were—" he continued, but suddenly walking in front of him, getting closer to Carol, Amanda cut him off in mid-sentence.

"I'm sorry—" she said throatily, as quick as she could manage. "She—she couldn't make it." Her face was still starkly white, even her words were cool, her voice not wavering.

Rick realized what she was doing. Just the thing she always did when she felt emotionally challenged, the thing Rick did himself. And perhaps he was being a hypocrite, the pot calling the kettle black, but—but wasn't she tired of playing this game?

God knew Rick was. Tired to his bones, and for someone who claimed wanting _clarity_ , Amanda had a special skill for elusive answers. Honest and open wasn't really her thing. Rick didn't like talking about feelings, but she was bringing this up to another level.

Rick still didn't forget how she stayed silent when he asked her if she wanted to talk about her reaction from last night, and although a part of him couldn't believe it, this whole elusive maneuvers had started bugging him. He wondered for a second if that was how Lori used to feel each time Rick rebuffed her attempts to talk. Perhaps there was indeed something called karma in this world. This—this was the bitter medicine.

Carol stood up, giving Amanda a look. Rick decided to step in. "How did you find us?" he asked, because he was also getting curious, and perhaps a part of himself also agreed with Amanda. There were other things they should talk about.

Carol wasn't the only thing Daryl and Joan had brought back. There was a black duffel bag slung over Daryl's shoulder. They’d retrieved the guns.

Michonne was dead now, and the knowledge had made everything worse. He wanted to find the rest of his family before it was too late. He wanted them back. The last time he'd seen Michonne, the woman was on the other side of the fence with Hershel, and Rick had failed both of them.

He didn't want to fail anyone else anymore. "We should discuss what we do next. We have the guns?" he asked, twisting toward Daryl. The hunter nodded. Rick gave a little nod back. "A'right. Let's get inside—" Rick motioned toward the cabin with his head. "We hear your story first, then talk about what to do."

Carol frowned. "Do what?"

"Maggie and Glenn left a message for Beth. They're going to a place called Terminus," Amanda answered quickly, skipping her eyes to Beth. "They—they left signs at the tracks. They say it's a sanctuary. We think we should go there and find the others."

At that, Carol smiled back, but it was a bitter one. "No. You can't go there," she declared. "It's not a sanctuary, but a rat trap."

From behind him, he heard a gasp from Beth. Rick wished he could've said he didn’t see this coming. Of course, it was a trap. Then for a second, he wondered how easily he believed Carol's words, so easy to believe them—then wondered if—if Carol came back for revenge because Rick had sent her away. Perhaps the older woman had grown so bitter and resentful, somehow had learned about the prison, and had decided to look for them to take revenge.

How would he know?

When come to think of, Carol really didn't look like someone who had been wandering in the wilderness alone for months… No. Quite the opposite, the woman looked fine. But he—he just couldn't believe it. Carol…Carol loved them as family, cared for them. She—she wept when Rick forced her away.

Disappointed…despaired…

An inner tremor passed over him, and Rick realized he didn't know anymore. He couldn't trust… Perhaps Terminus was what she claimed—a trap, Rick had suspected that much from the very beginning. They needed people. They'd accepted people in the prison. There was safety in numbers, but _that_ …putting up signs, broadcasting… it was so naive. Naivety didn't last long in this world anymore.

Whatever Terminus might be, Rick realized he couldn't trust Carol anymore. Trust didn't last in this world long, either.

He gave the older woman a stern look, trying to gauge her words, _her_. She looked the same. The same gentle, kind woman Rick always knew, but there was a cold hardness in her, a hardness that even Carol herself hadn't been aware of, just like the violent part of him, the part of him that Rick hadn't been aware of himself. People…people changed. Rick was the biggest example of that fact.

"How do you know?" he asked flatly.

Carol answered with the same flatness. "Because I've been there."

# # #

The more Carol talked, the more the world became a darker place.

Amanda felt the bile deep in her stomach, so vile—so blight… the question finding her again at full force. Why—why the fuck people just couldn't stay decent for a change! Why everyone had to turn into utter sick sonofabitches?

It shouldn't be that hard, shouldn't be this fucked-up. In the end, you just died! Death was inescapable. Even for the walking corpses, _it_ was coming. The corpses were rotting more and more as each day passed. They were becoming slower, lumpier, mushier, time grinding even them over with its spikes. There was no escape from it. Every single _thing_ was going to cease to exist at one point! Turning into monsters was just evading the inevitable, buying some time, but the price was too high, too damn high.

Her eyes drew to the youngsters. She wanted to send them away. She didn't want them to hear this ugly side of the world. Sheltering didn't work, they _had to_ know, she knew, but still she didn't want it.

Cannibals…eating your own to survive…drawing people in like sheep to slaughter, just to survive… All their big words, their big cities, and their bigger vanity, and it took less than two years for humanity to return to its basic, primal urges when the chips were down. Such an…accomplishment. She'd always thought it fraudulent, just like those blasted family picnics where everyone faked happiness, other things stirring beneath, and now those other things had resurfaced.

There was still beauty in this world, she still believed that, but it was really getting damn hard to find it. Then Carol took out the watch, a grey metallic old-fashioned men's watch, out of her pocket, and extended it to Rick.

In silence, Rick bowed his head and looked at it, and Amanda suddenly realized that it was his watch, and Carol was giving it back to him. She had no idea what that meant. She'd heard them talking about his watch a couple of times, Rick stating that he'd lost it, and now Carol was giving it back to him.

She thought Rick might've given it to her while he sent her away—but Amanda had seen a watch on Carol’s wrist before. Why would Rick have done such a thing? It made no sense… "Thank ya,” Rick slowly muttered, taking the watch. He took a breath before he asked, “Found the boy?"

Carol nodded. "We were together. We went to Terminus together," she explained as Rick linked the timepiece around his wrist. "After we—parted ways in town, I found Sam." The older woman then started retelling from the very beginning, and Amanda felt glad. She didn't know who this Sam was, but there were a lot of missing points in her earlier narrative.

She'd just said Terminus wasn't what it claimed to be, not a sanctuary, but a slaughterhouse for those who didn't accept their way of life, the cannibalism. It fairly reminded Amanda of Hansel and Gretel. The monsters drew people with nice words, signs, and even with radio signals as the witch did with her sugar house. Daryl was also right; they were even broadcasting. And if you refused to accept their lifestyle, you were ending up being the meat.

God, such a cruelty.

And to think that they were about to bring Judith and Mika to such a place. Beth, Carl, and Noah. A tremor passed over her and she shivered as she thought of Maggie and Glenn still there. Her eyes found Beth as they stood in a circle in the cabin, facing each other. Beth’s face had turned ashen after the news, and Amanda half expected the girl to walk out and demand to go to save her sister now. But she was silent as well, standing still, looking much more like the girl from the morning, taken aback once more with the cruelty and the ugliness of the world.

Goddammit!

"Who is Sam?" Amanda asked, turning her attention to Carol. They were going to find Maggie and Glenn. They were. If they were…not already dead. The possibility was there, even though Amanda didn't want to admit it.

"He was a boy we encountered on the run looking for meds in a house," Rick explained. "They were two, trapped in a house. Sam and his girlfriend. They were going to come with us to the prison, but first, we separated looking for supplies. I gave him my watch, so they could come back on time, but they didn't show up. We saw the girl later. A walker had caught her." He turned to Carol. "You found the boy later?"

"Yes, he was leaving the town. I took him in the car," she replied. "We were together for a while, then a month or so later, the car broke down. We were forced to leave it. I decided to go into the woods. The towns were getting dangerous. Then we saw the signs and decided to take the chance. I knew something was off, I just knew it. But…it was hard outside—" Her eyes found Rick, giving him a silent look before she continued. "So we went there." Pausing again, Carol sighed out. "They were…friendly at first. Offering us _meat_ and companionship, buttering us up. Then the next day—they…explained. Sam went wild, had a breakdown—refused to accept. They put him in a train car at the tracks, to wait his turn. D, I think, it was marked. They have half of the alphabet."

From his profile, Rick's jaw squared. Amanda even heard the noise his teeth made as he gritted. "And you?" he roughed out.

"I—I said yes," Carol answered, her voice as flat as her expression. "I—I made sure I stayed away from any meat again, but played along." Amanda heard no apology in her voice, too, just the same callousness that made Rick wary of her. Amanda wondered what she would've done in the woman's place. It—it was hard to judge someone before walking in their shoes. She would’ve liked to say she could’ve never accepted—but—but…She possibly would've done the same, played along until she created an opportunity to escape, and somehow it disturbed her, disturbed her profoundly.

But Carol—Carol wasn’t like that…callous... She—she couldn’t be. She did what she did to protect her people… “My plan was to form up a rescue plan and get us out of there,” Carol said, and a breath of relief escaped from Amanda. “I did, too," she continued, then her curt tone wavered, her voice dropping a notch down, having a subtle tremble. "But not before Sam was taken to the slaughterhouse."

Beside her, Beth sucked in a sharp breath and stepped into the middle of their circle, finally exclaiming. "We NEED TO go!" Her hands waving in the air wildly, she pointed at them. "We CAN'T wait anymore!" She shook her head agitatedly. "Maggie and Glenn were going there. Perhaps they're already there."

"Beth's right," Carl came up beside her as well. "We need to go. NOW." The scene made Amanda feel a bit lighter, seeing them together; Carl supporting her in the face of another ugliness, like Beth did for him, because that was what friends did for each other, no matter what.

Because even a part of her wanted to go there as soon as humanly possible, the other part –the part that didn’t want to believe Carol wouldn’t be that callous—was flashing at her in big, red neon letters, TRAP.

In all likelihood, this would be another trap, just like the signs at the tracks to lure them in, using Carol, Maggie, and Glenn as bait. Amanda wondered if Carol could do it, set them up this way. Despite everything, Amanda still didn't think Carol could. Although she hardly knew Carol, she’s seen the woman with Mika. But then how could they know for real? She recalled Joan's words for Gorman. _Things change, people change… Nothing stays the same._ Since she was a little girl, Amanda knew that.

And as if he were feeling the same qualms himself, Rick walked into the center of their circle beside the teenagers. "Slow down—everyone," he motioned the order with a gesture, waving his hand signaling downward, his tone having that firm timbre again. "We _will_ go and look for Maggie and Glenn, but we need to learn more." He turned to Carol. "What's this place? How many people they got? Their arsenal? Their watches?" He fired questions rapidly, back to back. "Can we go inside?"

With each question, Carol supplied an open, direct answer, and Amanda told herself the woman was genuine, was still the same woman they'd known, that she'd stayed the same. "When people refuse, they usually wait in the containers," she said finally. "They don't have large cooler units, so they need to handle—logistics wisely. Sam—waited for days before his turn came," she continued, her voice again losing its coolness. "If Maggie and Glenn are there, they still might be in the train cars."

Rick grimaced. "How did you escape?" he questioned further. "What was your plan to free Sam?"

"I escaped by cutting the fences between the watch shifts," Carol answered quickly. "But first, I was thinking to make a distraction to create confusion so I could break into the containers. There's a gas storage tank in the facility. My plan was to explode it. I saw a couple of firecrackers in the warehouse. They took people's stuff when people come in. I took your watch like that. I saw firecrackers, too. I was going to use them, but before I could prepare, Sam was gone. So I just cut the fences and left."

"You left the others there?" Joan asked, frowning, her voice making the silent, unveiled accusation quite clear. Daryl and Rick both shot a look at her at the same time, but both waited for Carol's answer.

"I don't know them—" Carol only said in return, as it was the finality of it. "We can't save everyone," she continued with her same callousness. "We only protect each other."

Carol told us we should protect each other, Amanda recalled Lizzie's words as the girl had saved them at the prison. Amanda _knew_ the woman was right; they weren't saviors of all humankind, but they could only protect each other no matter what, yet the notion disturbed her even worse than before. It—it _wasn't_ right, leaving people to slaughter like that.

It _just_ wasn't.

Rick just shook his head, his eyes solely on Carol, electric keen blue eyes having that sternness again, and it made her remember the man he was under the moonlight, covered with blood, and Amanda trembled…

"No—" he said, as cool as ice. "Those people are gon' understand every action got its consequences." He wandered his gaze around them. "And they're gonna feel pretty stupid when they learn it, too."

"Learn what?" Joan asked.

"They're fucking with the wrong people."

# # #

Carl and Beth made the opposition at the same very time, loudly, very loudly, "BUT WE WANT TO COME, TOO!"

Rick shook his head again. "No—" Rick said, keeping his voice still and calm, explaining logically. "We can't take Judith and Mika with us. Some of us have to stay behind with them. Carol's obviously coming with us because she knows the compound. Beth's hand is injured," he continued, sliding a look at the young woman. "You can't fire a gun with that hand, Beth," he told Beth, and he had a point, too. "And I want you with your sister, son. I'd leave Daryl or Amanda with you, too, but I can't leave them behind now. I'm gonna need them. They got the numbers." He turned to Joan. "You're coming too."

Joan first gave a look, and Amanda expected her to raise a question again, but the next second, she nodded. "Okay."

Rick turned to all the teenagers again, fixing them a look - Carl, Beth, and Noah. "Someone has to protect the kids, guys. Can I trust you with that?" he asked in all seriousness.

And as if understanding his father finally, Carl nodded in the same seriousness. "Yes, dad."

Rick nodded too and turned to them. "We do this quick, quiet. We take down the watches, slip in, find the firecrackers, and make the explosion. We fan out then, find the containers, and free them," he continued. "The gunfire and explosions are gonna bring walkers. If the explosion takes down a part of their fences, the place is done."

Just like the prison had been.

Carol gave a little nod. "Yes, the gas tank is near the back fences. It's gonna take down that part."

"Good—" Rick said back. "We do it then—"

Amanda frowned a little. "Wait a sec, there must be an easier way than this," she started but Rick cut her off.

"Amanda, _don't_ even think to tell me you don't want guns blazing!"

_What the fuck?!_

Her eyes turning to him, she glared at him, angry at his tone, and the hidden meaning of it. There was nothing wrong with not wanting guns blazing, not wanting a bloodshed, nothing! But this time it wasn't even the case. " _No_ ," she hissed, shooting at him a flashing look. "All I'm say _ing_ is that maybe we don't need to infiltrate in cloak and dagger style." She paused, softening her tone, as she looked at the others. "I knew this perp, a thief and a con-artist, also knew him from the homes. He used to say the easiest way to get into a place is always its front door," she continued, remembering the flamboyant ways her…old friend had used to tell them that in the interrogation. He had good looks, long soft brown hair and big, soft brown eyes, and a quick wit, and peaceful manners despite his chosen profession. "And he was right." She turned to Rick. "We know they take people in. Why don't we just…go in?"

Before Rick could explain though, it was Carol who answered her. "At the front, there's a barbecue set up. They have a welcoming party there at first, offering the meat to the newcomers."

Amanda frowned. "And what if we decline—" she asked back. "What if we say…we're not hungry?"

Carol shook her head. "I don't know."

"No. We don't take any chances. I don't take any risks," Rick replied sternly and declared with a finality in his voice. "We do it my way."

" _Fine_ —" Amanda said, tossing him a look, and turned to prepare to leave.

Sometimes she wondered why the hell she'd fallen in love with this guy in the first place.

# # #

Joan looked at her group as they prepared. This was all insane, _she_ was insane, feeling pretty stupid even to say yes… and dammit, all of them—even Amanda Shepherd was pretending like a fool, even Joan knew that all of them _knew_ they might be very well walking into a trap.

Contrary to the evidence, none of them was a fool. Yet, they were all still going. She wanted to go to talk to her friend, but the police officer was secretly fuming again, Joan had noticed. Amanda had become a lot more hot-tempered than usual in these last days, especially around a certain former sheriff’s deputy. She easily lost her usual coolness, quick to show her bitchy side that she'd been hiding carefully under a neat aloofness.

Joan felt like it was much more authentic than the no-nonsense female police officer façade the woman had been trying to show off to the world, like _this_ was the real her. But in this state, Amanda was also damn frustrating, especially when she wasn't in the mood.

So, Joan kept her distance. _She_ wasn't in the mood, either.

She really felt like an idiot. Her eyes skipped aside to the hunter, who was preparing his bolts beside her in silence. The way the man had greeted the older woman surprised her, but Joan had grown even more surprised now, seeing that the guy also had kept his silence.

She could imagine that Daryl Dixon would be the one not to take any shit from anyone, but obviously she'd been wrong.

Perhaps all men were _really_ just idiots, even the best of them. Joan recalled how the man had hugged the woman—and really…quite _obvious_.

But still, Joan wasn't an idiot. She turned to the tracker. "Look, I'm biting the bullet here,” she started. “—because no one else seems like they're willing to voice it, but I know you're all aware that we might very well be walking into a trap now—" she finally said aloud what was going on between them unsaid, firing the words quickly.

"Your friend _might've_ very well joined them!" she continued with the same fire, because really, it was so obvious. "Won't we even talk about that?"

Sat down cross-legged on the ground in the backyard, his hands halted as he checked the bolts, his finger running over the feathers, the tracker lifted his head after a second and looked at her, carefully, very carefully, then shook his head. "Nah…" he said. " Carol ain't like that."

"How do you know?" she asked. "People change."

Again, his eyes gave her a look, but this time in answer he only shrugged in that manner. The man seemed to develop a whole sign language with shrugs. Joan so far had counted sixteen different ways that he shrugged to tell something. This particular one was telling this time a certain dismissive 'whatever'.

Taking the bolts, he got to his feet and started walking away, almost to add insult to injury. "She might be trying to lure us in," Joan told him to his back. "She might even put those signs up herself."

That made his steps falter and the hunter turned around. "If you believe that, whyddya say yes?" he challenged .

Still standing where she was, the question made Joan quiet for a second. All in honesty, it was a very damn good question. She shrugged in the same manner he'd done. "I don't know," she admitted. "I guess I didn't want to be left out again."

At Grady, she was always left out, had always been protected. She didn't want to make the same mistake again. _Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me._ Joan Summers had learned her lesson.

This time, as if in understanding, Daryl gave her a little nod. "We're going because Maggie and Glenn are there," he said with that rough drawl after a little pause. "'Cause we ain't leaving people behind." He paused for a second, his eyes finding hers again as Joan remembered the way the man came to find them and repeated. "'Cause Carol ain't like that."

Joan looked back at him, then said, "Okay."

# # #

It was getting late. Rick shot a look at his wrist to read the time. Four in the afternoon. They'd been advancing toward Terminus for an hour. His eyes skipped to his wrist again, the gesture bringing him a different sort of comfort, feeling the weight of it on his wrist again, something from his past, something to connect him to his roots, to the man who had once been. Perhaps he'd gone too far now, but that man was still with him.

He'd taken their six, walking behind, his people in his sight. Carol was closer to him as Daryl and Joan had taken point. Amanda was closer to them, just walking beside Joan, putting a certain distance between them. All of sudden, they'd become…strained again, having a quick, short, almost meaningless quarrel.

Rick had no idea why. She—she just brought out that part of him quicker than anyone, and the way she kept herself withdrawn was really getting to him, he suspected. His eyes shot a look at her back as she walked with her spine straightened, her pace decisive, set. He really wished that damn place was just what it was supposed to be, a safe haven for those who needed it, a sanctuary where they could sit down and talk. Share a drink together, get drunk, talk to each other! Get her to sleep in his arms again. Get her under him, make her relax, make her calm down. He wanted that, not _this_.

But there was no time, no place. Even after Terminus, they were still going to be in the wilderness. He had to find them a place. A roof over their heads. He still wanted to give his watch to Carl one day like his father had done to him, so Carl could give it to _his_ own son. Rick had to make sure of that. Find a place for his family to settle down and live again.

There was only survival now, people could do anything to survive, measure you only by what they could take from you, but he still wanted more for his family. Even for himself. Her eyes found Amanda again. He wanted things to be _different_ now. It'd been enough to survive only to keep them alive for a long time, but Rick wanted more, too.

If only he could get Amanda to accept that _more_ now. She'd said she wanted to try it, but so far, Rick couldn't say she was acting on her words.

Suddenly Carol slowed her pace and fell back beside him. Understanding that the woman wanted to have a _talk_ with him, Rick slowed his, too. He felt Carol and he still needed to talk, as well, so Rick waited.

He didn't need to wait long. Carol started shortly. Being away—being away had made her much more confident, and Rick wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "I wanted to thank you for taking care of Mika—" the woman said, almost surprising him. This wasn't what he'd expected the woman would've told him given the opportunity. "You said you would take care of them, and you did. Thank you."

And the words hit at him like a bullet, piercing through him. He swallowed lowly in his throat, and shook his head. "It wasn't me," he said. "It was Amanda."

He still wanted to tell more. He wanted to come clean, but Amanda had made a point of interrupting him before, glossing over what had happened, and he didn't want to make her more upset by telling it to Carol before he talked with Amanda first.

This was why they needed to talk to each other! Each time they refused, they fucked up things. Rick didn't want it. He wanted them to be open and honest with each other. He'd taken so much of that shit with Lori. He didn't want to make the same mistake twice. But they couldn't do it if Amanda kept being a hypocrite, _only_ wanting to talk about the stuff she wasn't happy with. She'd said she had made many exceptions for him, but Rick dreaded to think how she’d been in her earlier relationships if she was with him like this now.

Then he paused a second in his mind. God, had she ever been in a relationship before, a real one? He grimaced, recalling Gorman's words, the way he'd mocked her, calling her Ice Queen, buying her a fish for a pet so she would have something to care for. The words were cruel, but the indications were clear. Amanda avoided intimacy like a plague, hadn't even been anyone without condoms. Even with him, she had an episode, closing herself _literally_ when they tried it naked.

 _I don't want things_ _to_ _get complicated romantically._ _I hate when it happens,_ he recalled her words next, and his heart ached. He wanted to take her in his arms, just to soothe her, tell her everything was going to be okay, that she could trust him. That he would never hurt her, that he—loved her.

He loved her.

The knowledge was quite certain in him now, but he suspected Amanda would run for the hills if he told her the L-word.

"So you two are together now?" Carol asked, breaking the brief silence between them, giving him a side look. His steps faltered for a second, hearing the words out loud as Rick had his own epiphany with his feelings. "I'd sensed it the moment I saw her when you brought her in."

Rick feigned not understanding, but that thing between them had been there since the beginning, since the time they just had stood there in the woods, staring at each other warily, their arms raised high protectively, but both unwilling to take it to the next step.

It'd been there since that time—even when they'd decided to walk away from each other. "I saw you also took off your ring," Carol continued.

That he had, and his ring was still in his pocket. Rick didn't think he was going to put it back on. No. He—he'd closed that chapter of his life, and he wasn't going to reopen it. His ring was going to go to Carl one day, along with his watch, so Carl would give it to the woman he loved. For him and Amanda…well, they would see.

So Rick only said with a little nod. "Yeah."

"I'm glad," Carol said. "I—what you did with me—" the grey-haired woman continued then with a low voice, her eyes turning to stare ahead. "I was very angry at you at first," she confessed. "I didn't understand then, but I do now. You did the right thing, Rick."

He shook his head, remembering his words to her. "I didn't do it because of it. Perhaps I was wrong."

There were only two options now. If Carol wasn't setting them up now, then she was saving their lives. Something was telling him deep inside that Carol was still true, was still the same woman who would've done anything to protect them. He didn't know for certain. It wasn't a fact, but only a belief.

Carol gave him a gentle smile, and Rick saw for a split second the same kind woman she'd been. "The thing is…" she said. "Even when you're wrong, you're right, Rick."

# # #

The sun had started setting when they finally saw the red brick stone building looming in the gloomy horizon ahead of them.

They'd divided in two groups, circling the area before they met again to find the best spot to sneak in. Carol had said they set outer watches outside the fences during the day, so they also looked for them, but it was so far, so good. They had killed a few rotters roaming in the woods alone or in pairs, as silently as possible, Rick dealing with them effectively using Michonne's katana even before she could make a move.

Well, the sword was really quick, precise, and silent, and deadly, and it was _kinda_ hot to see Rick swiping it around. His hands holding the sword arched, his steps aside in the position, he stood still like a statue, looking really _hot,_ then sliding the sharp blade right through the rotter's brain in one swift motion .

Okay, it was definitely _hot_ , and she felt arousal building in her just looking at him even in the circumstances, but the way he acted was also getting really very…tiresome, not to mention the way he'd talked to her the last time. She'd even started suspecting he wished her to stay behind with kids instead of being here with him. _Thank god,_ he hadn't voiced it out loud. If he had, she might not been responsible for her actions.

Swiping the blade clean, he sheathed the katana on his back. "That was really quick," he told her in appreciation, and Amanda almost rolled her eyes at him.

"You know Carl's gonna want it back," she shot back. "So don't get used to it."

They had guns, rifles, and a red handled machete, but Rick also wanted the sharp sword to cut in through the fences. Rick gave her a look in response, staring at her openly. "We need to tell Carol what happened with Lizzie," he declared out of the blue.

Goddammit! Each time he caught her unawares, she wanted to kick his ass or her own ass for it. She shook her head. "No." She turned and started walking away from him toward the damn compound.

"Amanda—" he called after her.

She didn't turn. She really didn't want to have this talk. Why the hell he couldn't just leave things as they were. Why did he always have to poke? "I don't want to talk about it," she said dismissively, still walking away.

"She thanked me today for taking care of kids," he hissed at her. "We _need to_ tell her."

She swept back on her heels, facing him. "Oh now, you started feeling regret?" she rattled, her tone getting cutting with sarcasm. "What? You want to come clean? Want absolution?" From your sins, she almost added, but kept it inside at the last moment.

She knew she shouldn't get this bitchy and cross, that she was asking for a fight. Lizzie was still a sore point between them, something they could never agree on. Something they just needed to agree to disagree, accept, and move on.

There was nothing else to do. Rick must've known that as well. Carol didn't _need to_ know. "There's no absolution, no forgiveness, Amanda," he told her flatly. "You know that. I did what I had to. It was hard, but I had to."

She shook her head. "And _you_ know how I feel with that. I _don't_ accept that."

Rick nodded. "I know."

She raised her arms to the sides. "So why do you want to tell Carol?" she almost exclaimed.

"Because every action, every choice has got its consequences, Amanda," he repeated, pointing at Terminus. "I made my choice, and I _am_ prepared to live with its consequences. But if I hide the truth from Carol now, then it means I'm not. And that's why I _need_ _to_ tell her."

She stayed in silence for a second, hearing the words, knowing it true, and a part of her felt…loved him more for the words, for the fact that he was taking the responsibility, but the other part just wanted it to go away—forget… She wanted the girl she'd made daisy tiaras to stay that way, looking at the flowers with her…

She turned her head aside, looking away from him. "It's not just about us," she said slowly. "It _is_ about Lizzie, too," she continued. "I didn't want to tell Carol because if we start talking, then we need to tell her _everything_." She turned her eyes back at him. "We'll need to tell her about the cat, about the animals, about what she _did_. That it was her who almost brought the fences down _twice_ , feeding rotters." She paused before she asked. "How many people did you lose that night, Rick, when the fences came down?"

She'd never asked. She didn't want to know. She just couldn't. "Carol doesn't need to know that. I don't want her to know. She loved the girl as a daughter." She swallowed. "I don't want to taint her memories. Carol wouldn't like it." She bowed her head, shaking her head. "Sometimes you think you want to know, but you _don't_." She lifted her head up and looked at him again. "Sometimes ignorance is really bliss."

Rick gave her a long stare, one of those one, then declared, "This is not _only_ about Lizzie," he said openly. "You're _not_ only talking about Lizzie." She stared at him in utter shock. She really wouldn't have been this shocked at his sudden, hard-fact reality attacks, the way he dropped the bombs off on her, but each damn time, he had her.

Each damn time. Her expression closing off, she turned, telling him the same thing. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Amanda, you can't always run away," he called out to her.

Angry again, she turned and flashed at him a look. "I'm not running away," she hissed out. "I'm just refusing to have this talk."

"On what grounds?" he pushed further.

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "On the grounds that I don't want to!"

Another look, and his blue eyes flashed, too. "I know this'll come to you as a shock, but sometimes in relationships you have to do things you don't want to do!"

"Oh?" She took a step back in feigned surprise. "That's what we're in now? We're having a _relationship_? I thought we _weren't_ labeling anything!"

Rick shook his head, his tone taking an edgy warning. "Don't do this," he said, and it really came as a warning. She grimaced. "Don't steer the topic to avoid me each time I want to talk with you about something."

"I've got absolutely no fucking idea what you're talking about."

He took a step in angrily toward her and held her arm. "The hell you don't—" His eyes fixated on hers, Amanda stared at him coolly. "Don't do it, Amanda."

" _Don't_ fucking give me ultimatums, Rick," she warned him, leveling her eyes at her arm at where he still held her.

He let her go. "It's _not_ an ultimatum."

"It sure sounded like one."

"Amanda—"

She cut him off. "In case that you missed it, Rick, this isn't really a good time to have this talk—" She pointed a waving hand at the looming compound. "There are those monsters there that you need to teach that they're fucking with the wrong people."

Rick shook his head again. "You're impossible."

She seethed out between her teeth, fuming. "You really want to know? I mean, really?" She took a step forward and infiltrated into his personal space, coming chest to chest. "Well, you _asked_!"

"It was my friend," she started without waiting for him. "We were ten years old. I knew something was happening with her. It was like you grow a super-sense for it. You just feel it, the tingling over your skin. But I wanted to know, too. Something was happening to my friend, and I wanted to know what it was. So, I followed her one day to the basement. And, there she was, with the sonofabitch who was _supposed_ to take care of us." She gave him a look, keeping her voice still cool, anger like molten lava in her veins, fueling her, images trying to assault through her barriers, but she didn't let them. "Now imagine last night, Rick, but imagine it wasn't Beth there, but Mika, and imagine seeing her _under_ a man your age!"

She took a step back. "A ten-year-old girl writhing helplessly under a man of forty, her mouth gagged so she couldn't scream…" She looked at him mockingly. "Now _do_ you want to talk about it?"

In utter shock, he looked at her. She smiled bitterly. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I _told_ you sometimes ignorance is bliss," she said with the same bitterness before she turned and started walking away.

This time he didn't stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're at the Terminus, Amanda finally breaking and telling Rick about her friend. This's not really something Amanda would've started talking openly, and Rick and Amanda's *relationship* needs to deal with this strain before they learn how to communicate.  
> I'm so glad that I finally brought back Lizzie's situation too, Amanda's reluctance, and Rick's realization that each choice has consequences. Carol was fun to write in this chapter, because in my opinion in this setting Carol might be very well luring them into a trap, too...? That's the beauty of The Walking Dead. You'd never know. I also wanted to add her "even when you're wrong, you're right" quote here, because I think it's basically what Rick is, too, especially with Lizzie and his other less than perfect decisions.
> 
> And, Michonne is dead. AND, Carl is having her katana now! For the story, Michonne has got no place in it now, but only can be a source of jealousy for Amanda, and it played with it a bit, but I want to keep my cast basic. I quite enjoyed writing Joan and Daryl little part, and I think I'm going to turn to the others' P.O.Vs more now, using a much closer view on it like this time. When all of them comes together again, it's gonna be fun. I hope.
> 
> Don't hesitate to tell me what you think if you're still reading, love y'all. ciaociao.  
> Ps. I've might added a little reference in this chapter for future. I wonder if anyone will catch it :D


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly, I got hit by the muse, and stayed all night last night finishing the chapter!  
> Also hit almost 13k words! Longest chapter ever. Tell me if you enjoy the longer chapters more, or prefer the shorter ones. I feel like my writing style changes :D I'm insanely happy finally to be able to come to this point in the story, too!  
> Enjoy.

**XXXIX**

To their left side, just like how the signs indicated, Terminus lay where the tracks met.

They had arrived just as the sun set, creating a gloomy, much needed cover for them. The compound was a four-story old-fashioned brick building, possibly dated a century ago, a maze of track lines intersecting each other chaotically. Close to the city, the hub must’ve been one of the centers of the rural regions a couple of decades earlier before the rapid transit methods and personal cars blew away its popularity. Yet, it was still built on the intersection of many diverse paths, continuously leading people to their ends.

Suddenly Rick recalled what he’d advised Amanda when they met in the woods, directing her to the tracks to find her way again. _Follow the railroad,_ he’d told her.

For a brief second, he imagined her following his instruction and ending up in this place like Carol. A shiver passed through him as his eyes found her across him in the circle of five that they had formed.

To his right, there was Daryl, and on his left Carol. Beside Daryl, Joan was crouched, and next to the former nurse, across him, as if she wanted to stay as far as possible from him, Amanda kneeling staring at the earth with her bowed head. Even without seeing it properly, Rick knew her face bore the same stoic expression after their talk—the talk Rick was definitely _not_ going to think about now. Motionless, Amanda looked like a statue of cold marble, cool and aloof, untouchable.

She’d been right. He’d _asked_ for this. He had clawed at her, prodded her, poked at her barriers until she lost it. He’d wanted her to be open and honest, and she had come clean. _Be careful what you wish for._

 _I was lucky, Rick, nothing happened to me,_ Rick remembered her words on the day they’d lost the prison as she tried to reassure him no one had hurt her. He tried to stop his thoughts before his mind delved into it further, but it was already too late. They came, the way she’d begged the bastards to take her instead, the way she'd rolled herself into a ball, covering her ears so she couldn’t hear it, see it… _Imagine it wasn’t Beth but—_

Rick stopped.

He _didn’t_ need to imagine that.

God!

He was a cop. He’d seen stuff, things he wished he _hadn’t_ , things that used to make him come to home and hold Lori tightly afterward, seeking solace. Now Rick didn’t know what to do. He wanted to take her in his arms too, shelter her, tell her he was here, tell her he was always going to be here, but she was out of his reach again.

Once more he’d screwed up, managing to create another rift between them although technically he didn’t do anything. He should’ve known better, and he did _too_ , knew she was hiding something, something bad, something terrible, even knew it was the worst time for it, but time…

There was never enough time now… Another disaster always waiting to happen, the house always won at the end, and GOD!

Why did she always make him feel like this? Make him want to crack her armor so he could see her bare in front of him? Was that love too? Rick had never felt like this for Lori.

But after everything happened between them, Rick was getting one thing clear; Amanda had better defenses than him.

Amanda wore harsh and cool around herself like a second skin, a skin covered with quills, her claws, sharp as razor always a breadth away to pull out. She had a soft heart in a hard shell, but she could get very passive-aggressive, the emphasis on the aggressive part heavily.

Shane used to have an on-again, off-again relationship with this girl, a relationship they just couldn’t end for years, going on a break for a while before they started another time. One day at the patrol after their thousandth break up, Rick had asked his partner why he just didn’t go ahead and propose, a man clearly must’ve been in love to take that kind of shit for _years_ , but Shane only had said with a sigh in return she was a lot to handle, shaking his head. Rick had realized then, perhaps for the first time, Shane Walsh, the breaker of many hearts, was scared.

Was he scared too now? This need to see her naked was a byproduct of that fear? Amanda was certainly a lot to handle. But wasn’t _he_ now, either? All these fights were their way to strip off each other’s defenses?

Rick didn’t know. He only knew the need was there, seeing her without her armor… naked. He remembered how he was when they had sex, the urge, the blind desire to see her completely naked even though she’d warned him it wasn’t a good idea. And no, it hadn’t been, just like the talk Rick had forced on her, but he hadn’t listened to her.

And here they were again.

His eyes turning to the compound, Rick tried to compartmentalize his inner turmoil from what had to be done and focus on the work instead. They needed to do this. They couldn’t afford being drifted, going astray.

His people needed Rick to get them out of this place, and these stupid assholes needed to learn they’d drawn the wrong kind of people to fuck up with. All the rest, they were going to figure out later. He shifted his weight on his other knee, acutely aware that the statement was the exact same thing he’d been telling himself since they were on the road together. So far, they hadn’t done a good job of it.

Forcing the thought away from his mind, Rick motioned the section of the backyard of the station hub Carol had led them. At the close look up from their vantage point, the gas tank looked bigger, something that had made Rick a bit happier.

The bigger the tank was, the bigger the rotting crowd the explosion was going to draw would be. He needed walkers to make this place get done, just like how the prison had been.

For a second, he really wished they could’ve taken the compound intact, just going in faking strayed passengers in the woods like Amanda had thought without guns blazing. That way they could have a place, four walls and a roof over their heads and fences around them, the safety they terribly needed. But even if they would find Maggie and Glenn in time, they didn’t have the numbers.

The only way to stop these people doing what they did was to lay this place into ruins, so walkers had to come in. Though, he still wished it, a real place, so they could finally figure _it_ out, as well. He loved her, yes, the feeling was certain in him, but he wanted to see it now, try it, a real relationship. He imagined going on a picnic in the woods, something like a date, sharing wine and snacks, making out, kissing, laughing, just like how lovers were supposed to…

It was a good fantasy. A picnic in the woods would get interrupted a few times only by walkers _if_ they were lucky. They’d seen yesterday what happened when they weren’t.

 _Things changing in here doesn't change things out there,_ his words to Hershel came back, remembering the taste of blood copper and metallic over his tongue under the moonlight.

No, things hadn’t changed. They still lived in a brutal, vile world, worse than before. Humanity had always an ugly side, now people were showing off their true colors as easily as snakes shedding their skins. He looked at the compound again, the so-called sanctuary, the wolf in the sheepskin.

Yet, they were still stupid to do it. Drawing people in, comprising their security. It was a mistake that Rick was going to make sure they were going to pay it dearly.

Turning his eyes from the train station, he looked at his team, and started laying down the plan. “We separate in two as soon as we’re in—” They had to get in and get out before a herd gathered up outside the fences, overrunning the place, but also blocking out their way. They’d gotten separated in the same way escaping the prison. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.

“Me, Amanda and Carol will look for the firecrackers in the warehouse. Daryl—” Rick continued, lifting his eyes up to his hunter friend. He also wanted to keep Carol beside him for any surprises, but he didn’t say it aloud.

“You take Joan and wait until the explosion. Then start looking for Maggie and Glenn.” He pointed at his right side towards the rows of the containers they barely saw over at the other side of the compound. “We’ll find you after the we set it alight.”

Daryl nodded, but immediately Amanda shook her head. “No—” she opposed briskly, her voice having an edge. Rick almost let out a frustrated sigh, of course she’d had to raise a rejection.

“Carol said they got half of the alphabet—” She motioned at the containers with her head. “It’s too much for two people to check. We need to be quick.” She paused, her eyes tossing him a glance as if she knew he’d thought the same thing. “You take Carol and find those firecrackers in the warehouse,” she went on. “I go with Daryl and Joan. We divide in two, search the cars separately.”

“No. We don’t go alone—” The whole situation started reminding him the way they’d gotten into a fight how to proceed after Lizzie in the woods, Amanda insisting to go looking for Maggie, Glenn and Joan alone, but really weren’t they tired of running in circles now?

She gave him a look with the same stubbornness she always had, holding herself defiant. “We can cover more ground like that,” she laid her case further.

Rick didn’t buy it. “Or you get caught and we need to get your ass hauled out, too—” he shot back, his voice a raspy hiss, shaking his head. “None of us go alone.”

“Rick—”

“Amanda—” he cut her off, ignoring the look Carol was giving him. “I said _no_.” Daryl and Joan were wisely staying out of this, evidently getting used to their bickering, but _they_ were still a new thing for the older woman. Rick wondered if it was going to be like this now when they found each other again, everyone looking at them the way Carol was looking now.

They’d quite enjoyed themselves with pulling Glenn and Maggie’s legs at the prison. The notion made him perplexed, especially when Carol’s lips suddenly broke, forming a gentle, surprised smile.

Which Amanda chose to ignore, too, as she prepared herself butting heads with him. “I’m a fucking c—” she started, possibly to remind him again she was a cop much like him, but before she was finished, before him, Carol cut her off, too.

“I think she’s right—” the older woman said, and encouraged, Joan nodded too.

“Yeah—” the former nurse agreed. “We don’t need two cops looking for some firecrackers at the same time.”

After that, sliding a quick side-look to him, even his brother gave a half nod of agreement. “They got a point, man.”

Grimacing, Rick offered back, his jaw setting, “Fine, you take Carol—”

Amanda objected again. “No. Carol comes with you. You need her. She knows where the warehouse is.” She paused. “Or I go with Carol looking for firecrackers and you search the trains car alone,” she suggested, giving him a look with a shrug, but also knowing that he could never let her in that place like that willingly!

Rick nailed her a look in seriousness. “You’re gonna be careful,” he intoned sternly as he drew up to his feet.

She brushed it off with a small yeah, rising up, too. The notion still made the small hair on his back stand up in protest. It was against everything he’d been taught to. A man had to protect the woman he loved, not send her off in the middle of monsters all by herself. It felt wrong, yet, Rick nodded in the end.

“If anyone gets separated,” he roughed out for the last. “This’s our meeting point. Fall back here.”

This time there was no opposition, only small nods in agreement as Daryl took the black duffel bag that they’d retrieved this morning. They then started prowling toward the fences where Carol said she’d escaped before.

He thought it was going to be the moment of the truth too, a showdown that each of them passed in mind, but didn’t say anything out loud, either. If Carol set them up, this was the best place to get them just as they were sneaking in.

The fences at this side were closer to the woods, half covered with wild shrubbery and bushes. Rick drew out the katana blade off his back. That was why he’d asked the sword from Carl before they’d left. Rick would like better a wire cutter, but beggars really couldn’t be chooser.

It also felt…wrong using the Afro-American woman’s sword, as if he were doing something he wasn’t supposed to, but Rick quelled down the sentiment. Things didn’t work like this anymore. At the end, it was just a sword.

Nothing belonged to anyone for real anymore. They only borrowed it for a while, until someone else tried to claim it. The taste of blood vaguely came to his tongue again…and the sick voice echoed in darkness _, Oh, and I claim this one._ He gave himself a mental shake to clear his thoughts. Claim one of his again? Rick would like to see them _try_.

His face setting further, he started cutting an opening. When he was done, they slipped into quietly, and there was nothing.

No hidden ambush, no welcoming party.

On a brief moment, Amanda’s eyes found him just as Rick shifted to her, and they shared a glance, both _feeling_ it. Her strained shoulders relaxed a bit as a cord in his stomach loosened an inch.

The next they started running toward a corroding left behind bus to take cover.

Rick spied a look at the compound, poking his head from the vehicle’s front side. Daryl and Joan had taken their six, Carol in the middle of their line, and this time somehow Amanda took his left side, instead of staying Daryl and Joan’s other side at the end.

 _You stand beside me_ , his words flashed in his mind, and that was where she _truly_ belonged. Rick felt it strongly once again, so clearly, so openly, even though he was letting her go inside the compound without him.

It was the moments like these—short, quick, wordless gestures that made him sure of _it_. It was the way she looked at his flower sitting alone at the bank at the prison, the way his hand brushed hers at the front of the Death Wing, the way she laughed with him silly, the way she relaxed in his embrace after her operation hearing his voice, the way she hugged him last night, holding him in her arms tightly—

Twisting aside on a sudden urge, he leaned on in her and gave a light peck on her lips. What he truly wanted to do was to take her face in his hands and gave her a long, long kiss, just like the first time he’d kissed her, but there was no time for that.

Later. They were going to deal with this later. So he pulled back, but not before he reminded her again; “Remember your promise—” he rasped out, his eyes fixing on hers firmly. “ _Don’t_ die on me.”

Her lips cracked up a small, faint smile, a secret treasure only for him as Rick turned and motioned with his head at Carol to follow him. It was time to end this.

These people _wanted_ them to come to this place, wanted them to find their compound, put up signs, sent off radio broadcasts…

Well, here he was.

# # #

It was quite dark inside the filthy train car marked with the big, red A, but the darkness didn’t stop them. Focused on their jobs, they were all in silence, the only sound that was breaking the silence was the grinding of wood, or metal or whatever material they could find around to utilize as they sharpened them on whatever surface they could find—at the edges of container’s metal door, on the hard floor, at the metal carcass of their cage. Everything could turn to a weapon; that was what Rick always used to say.

Their lost leader could be so proud of them now if he saw them.

A part of her was scared, but Maggie didn’t let fear consume her. No. They’d been played, lured into this web of deceit like flies caught in a net, but soon these monsters were going to see that they were a hard pill to swallow.

A shiver passed through her after her last thought, but suppressing it, Maggie continued sharpening the metal pin of her belt’s buckle. It’d already become quite sharp. She knew she could jab it into the jugular vein now, causing enough damage then would go for the killing stroke.

They had to escape. They couldn’t stay in this hellhole, waiting to be…grilled. They’d welcomed them first with open arms, offering them a safe haven then it turned to a nightmare. They’d come to this place in hopes for a reprise, where they would catch a breath, finding each other before they embarked a new journey.

There had to be something more than _this_ …something else. She wasn’t sure if she completely bought the sergeant’s words, that they were going to save the world, but she wanted to try it. Her daddy would want her to try it.

A new world, where there was no longer dead walking, where they could start living again. It was what they’d always wanted since they’d lost the farm. In the prison she’d regained her hope, but they’d lost it again. Her eyes shifted for a second to her husband, the pillar of her world, her support, and she remembered how she’d felt when she thought she might’ve been with a child… Fear, anxiety, worry but also hope.

Maggie still wanted that, be together, build a better life… They’d lost each other, but they were still together. It was what Glenn said after they’d escaped from the bus with Bob and Sasha before they met the sergeant and his crew on the road, before they saw the signs of this place from nightmares.

Yet her hope was still there, despite this monstrosity, even in this dark, filthy, smelly train car. Even when all the rest felt lost, hope was still there, Maggie had to believe that. She was still Hershel Greene’s daughter, Beth’s sister.

Beth. Her beautiful, sweet sister… The cruelty of it made her resolves to fight back even more absolute, the fact that she might’ve possibly directed her sweet sister into this death trap.

Her face setting further, Glenn darted at her a look, momentarily halting his own sharpening a piece of wood he’d found around. His dark almond eyes lingered on her for a second longer as he stood by at the other side of the metal door. “It’s gonna be okay—” her husband whispered. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Maggie nodded. “I know.” Their lives couldn’t end like this, it wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair anymore in the world, but this was even worse. “If Beth comes here because of me—” she started but Glenn cut her off.

“No—” he told her adamantly, returning the sharpening the wood on the edge. “No,” he repeated, bowing his head to his work. “We get out, find Beth and find others again, then get this science guy to D.C.” His eyes moved up to hers again. “That was the plan, remember?”

Get the science guy to D.C, find the cure, save the world. Easy as pie, Glenn had dubbed it.

Her lips moved, looking back at him, and despite everything, she felt her love for him coursing in her wildly. “Yeah,” she whispered back. “Easy-peasy.”

Their moment broke as Sgt. Abraham Ford turned aside from where he was stationed beside Glenn to spy outside through the cracks of the metal door. “The nuts ‘re comin’,” he warned, his rough voice dropped further into a harsh whisper. His right hand fisted tighter around the few inches thick screw he’d managed to free from the metal door’s hinges. His eyes wandered over first his own people, the slim Latina girl in shockingly short shorts, the science guy, and then their group, Bob and Sasha standing at the corner across them at the other side, both hunched over the floor sharpening their own tools. “Get ready.”

Maggie shared a quick glance with Glenn, reminding herself they’d done harder things than this. They’d survived a whole winter on the road, had cleared the prison all by themselves. They were coming to take them, but they couldn’t get them.

Her fingers tightened around the sharpened pin, ready to fight as they all turned to face the door, waiting it to open, but suddenly above them there was light again.

She brought her arm to cover her eyes at the sudden brazenly bright sunlight, assaulting their senses as she realized the hatch over the roof opened. Around them, everyone was in the same position, covering their eyes at the attack. She lowered her arm an inch down, craning her neck up to peek through her half closed eyelids, and more than seeing it, she heard the clangs as a few metallic canisters hit on the ground. Then inside the container was filled with tear gas.

She’d heard about the effect of the tear gas before on people. They even had used it against the Governor’s first attack in the tombs, but she had no idea how it was as used against them. It hurt…her eyes burned…so fucking much, every breathe she took felt like molten lava. She started coughing, much like everyone else in the train car, falling on the ground on her knees. She was coughing her lungs out as she saw Glenn dropping as well across her.

She pressed her palms on the ground, bowing her head, half gaging half coughing as the metal door opened vigorously and faces hidden behind the gas masks started coming in. Glenn was the first one they took.

With a cry that made her chest split in two with pain, Maggie jerked to her feet, her hands clawing to get to him. They couldn’t take him. They _couldn’t_ take her husband. She couldn’t do this without him. She couldn’t live without him _… Please…please…please…_ She passed over in her mind, but the rest of her words were lost. She didn’t know to whom she should pray now. She’d lost so much. Her mother, her home, her father, perhaps her sister, perhaps even her faith… She couldn’t lose Glenn, either...

She started running to him as he cried for her too. “Maggie!”

“Glenn—!” she cried out as they pushed a black sack over his head and took him out.

She made another attempt to go after him as they dragged Bob outside, too, Sasha crying after him in the same way Maggie did. A few others with gas masks were kicking the muscled sergeant on the ground continuously. A kick hit her just before she tried to jump out of the train car. They caught her roughly and threw her back inside.

“Glenn!” Maggie cried out again over her coughs as a second kick hit at her side. She fell on her side, drawing her legs over her stomach to protect herself from the third one, still coughing over the gas that filled into her lungs.

Before she could get up again, they were gone.

She pulled back to her feet and sprinted to the metal door. She banged her hand on it repeatedly, still coughing, still crying, still screaming. It hurt, but she didn’t stop. She had to get Glenn back. She wanted him back. She wanted all of them back. They shouldn’t be here. They didn’t belong here.

Her fist kept hitting at the metal door with heavy thuds, and it took a while until she noticed the long trail of blood it left behind. She stopped, realizing her fingers had clenched around the metal pin of her belt’s buckle as the sharp edge of the pin tore off her skin.

She wasn’t sure how long it passed. First, they’d taken Glenn’s watch, her father’s watch, now they’d taken Glenn too. They were all silent. Sasha was sitting on her knees on the floor, her head bowed, looking defeated. the Latina girl in shorts, Rosita, was standing above the big sergeant as the man sat down in the corner. Maggie turned to them. “We need—” she started roughly but halted; words leaving her burned lungs and throat with difficulty. She tried again. “We need to get out.”

Abraham rose to his feet, giving her a red-eyed, loaded look, but didn’t say anything.

Maggie didn’t care.

She needed to get out. Her husband was a survivor. She wasn’t going to believe he was gone until she saw it with her own eyes. He would survive. Glenn always did. She walked back at the door and started looking at it.

There had to be a way. Amanda used to say there was always a way out. _You only have to look for it,_ Maggie heard her rich yet clear voice in her head, speaking in that confident, sure tones. And who would know better than the ever-resourceful smart officer? She’d brought them to Grady avoiding a bloodshed, even though Maggie had been furious at her at the time, had also managed to keep her promise.

She started searching the door’s hinges as Abraham sat at the corner, giving her suspicious looks, but Maggie didn’t really care. She was going to find a way out. She was then going to find Glenn, run away from this place and find Beth and others again. This wasn’t the end of their stories. They still had so much to live. Beth was going to have his first boyfriend, Glenn and she was going to have a baby, Sasha and Bob was going to perhaps marry, Rick and Amanda…well, Maggie was sure they were going to start something.

Maggie wasn’t an idiot, nor she was blind. She’d seen the glances they gave each other in the prison when they thought no one was looking. For a little while, she even suspected they’d started that _something_ but were keeping it secret from everyone. But it wasn’t the case. Glenn had remarked it would take another month before they started doing it, at tops. Maggie had said it wouldn’t take that _long_ … Maggie hoped they were together now. She didn’t want to lose the bet. Glenn had promised her a foot rub for that.

She checked the hinges of the metal door, trying to loosen them with the pin of her buckle. If only she had a screwdriver. She turned to the former sergeant. “If we can take the hinges—” she started but was cut off in mid-sentence as suddenly the ground beneath their feet shook as much as the metal walls around them at the same time a loud booming cracked around them.

Abraham sprung to his feet as Maggie watched the walls tremble. “What’s that?”

She bowed her head, looking at the shaking ground. “Was it…an explosion?” Rosita asked.

Maggie nodded then they heard the shouts too. “They’re under attack!” she yelled, placing the side of her face on the door. The sounds—gunshots…they were coming from everywhere.

“Abraham!” Maggie bellowed, turning her head to the other side to the container. “Listen to this!”

The big muscled man started pounding on the door heavily the next second, barking loudly at the people outside. “Hey! Hey! Open the doors!” he shouted. “We’re stuck here.”

“HELP!” Maggie screamed, hitting on the door beside him, Sasha and Rosita shouting on their back as well. “HELP!”

A loud answer, a familiar rough, southern drawl came from outside. “MAGGIE?” And an female’s voice accompanied it, calling her name out together… “MAGGIE?”

Maggie smiled.

# # #

His words echoed in her as Rick turned and walked away… _Don’t die on me._

God, she was _so_ doomed.

And idiot, turning into a mash again with only one look and one small kiss, even after she’d become gigantically pissed at him. Perhaps it was just their modus operandi, the way their _thing_ was functioning.

She shouldn’t let him get under her skin. She’d snapped at the worst time and the worst way possible. But—god! He—he just didn’t know when it was time to shut up!

She was barely holding herself up. A damn heart-to-heart about her past was absolutely the last thing she needed right now. Hell, a talk about her childhood friend, about what she’d witnessed was the last thing she _ever_ needed.

Everyone had a skeleton in their closets, cans of worms that had better to left untouched. She didn’t go and press him about Lori and what had happened between them and his partner! Amanda wasn’t an idiot. She could read between the lines, too!

She knew it wasn’t _just_ about him and his wife. She knew there was more to the story, but she didn’t go and press him about it! Though, she really wouldn’t want to drop a bomb like that on him. She knew it was cruel. She knew he’d meant well, because he _cared_ , but—She sighed inwardly.

She loved him, she _thought_ she did, but this was getting more than she’d bargained for. Perhaps they were just wrong for each other. They never managed to stay stable. They were good with some things and were horrendously terrible with others.

It wasn’t good. Even here, inside in this nightmarish place, hiding behind a bus, she was _still_ thinking of him instead of figuring out a way to find Maggie and Glenn.

They couldn’t tolerate this. Their lifestyle couldn’t afford this kind of drama. God, they’d better find a place before they truly fucked up this thing beyond repair. Because she still wanted it, right? Still wanted to be with him?

She was so sure after her showdown with Gorman. She’d wanted to try it, see it, see how much she’d _changed_ , Gorman’s words, her loose hair over her shoulders…but this…God! Was she really ready for this? A part of her was saying yes, but the other part… She heaved a subsided sigh. Was it possible to want something, someone, but also _not_ wanting it?

God, she truly sounded like nuts.

She let out another small sigh, and Joan turned aside to her, giving her a look. “You okay?” the former nurse asked, and Amanda almost heaved another.

She didn’t know that anymore, either. She nodded quickly, though. “Yeah,” she muttered, “Just a long day.”

It’d been a long day since last night, almost as long as the day when they’d lost the prison. She’d thought they could’ve taken this day off, lay their burdens down for a day. They needed it. Even Rick felt it, giving her flowers—

Her chest almost swelled again, remembering her bouquet, the way he’d wanted to make her happy—the way he’d _made_ her happy—truly happy…and other memories came like a flood, too… the way she felt sleeping in his arms, how it felt having him inside her, naked and bare, nothing between them… the feelings he made her feel… God, was she _really_ ready to let go of them, of _him_?

The question made her shiver, but she also knew the answer. She wasn’t. She—she still wanted...it. She wanted _him_.

God, she was _so_ screwed.

She bent down a bit lower, feeling a bit better at least she managed to clear out _something_. Although she still had no idea where that left them. Wanting something didn’t mean she was supposed to have it.

“Let’s move toward the train cars—” she suggested, turning her mind away from it, listening to her own damn advice. This _wasn’t_ a good time for this. “I feel like we’re sitting ducks here.”

Her companions nodding, they started sneaking out of their hidden place, taking cover of the building’s terrace. Carol had said they had watchers at the top of the roof, but the wall was giving them enough coverage.

Daryl was like he was always, like a silent predator on a prey. Amanda was glad to see that Joan was keeping up with them, but the woman needed to get better. All of them needed to get better. Priorities, they still got them, and she really wanted her mind focus on something more _productive_ than her love life that was filling in a bit too much drama for her tastes.

So, as they hid behind a trailer close the train cars, Amanda turned to Daryl. “Hey—” she whispered. “After we did this, can you—uh—teach us how to track in the woods?” she asked, pointing with her head at Joan and herself. “We all need to learn. Me, Joan, Beth, Carl.”

Daryl gave her a look. “I thought Rick already started teachin’ y’all,” the man said tactfully, but Amanda shook her head. Well, he had, he’d already taken her and Carl, and Rick had confessed he didn’t like it when Amanda suggested it first, but well, Amanda really felt like they had to get separated a bit.

She shrugged. “Rick’s gonna have his hands full when all of us get together again,” she answered with the same tactfulness. “We should make it easier for him.”

It wasn’t a lie. Rick acted like he had to take the responsibility of everything. Even when he’d claimed he' stepped down at the prison, Amanda always heard his name shouted at the first sight of the trouble, and each time he responded. She loved him for that, too, the way he took responsibility, even when his actions were ruthless. The reason why he wanted to come clean with Carol had also made her chest swelled with emotions, and that was the man Amanda _wanted_ , the man who cared, took responsibility of his actions, but he also needed to learn let it go.

Amanda knew he didn’t like her to go alone separately in the compound, but in the end acceded. It was a start. “I’m gonna check the other side—” she said quickly, peeking to check out the pathway beside the railroads. “We find each other after the explosion.”

They both nodded briefly in answer, and Joan added before she left; “Be careful.”

Amanda bobbed her head too. “You too.”

God, she just wanted them to be away from this place.

Things were going to be better when they found each other. Beth would feel better once she saw her sister and Glenn. Rick might feel better, too, if he saw the younger man. Daryl was a very good man, but he was a shitty conversationalist. Glenn had this easy, simple way with people like Beth. Rick needed that. Maybe they were having a sort of cabin fever being in such close quarters with each other, and neither she nor Rick was easy people to get on with.

They needed their friends.

They also needed a roof over their heads, but one step at a time, Amanda reminded herself. Not just diving into things heads-on, just like she and Rick had done with their relationship.

Their relationship… God, she really had a _relationship_ , didn’t she?

The world had ended, and Amanda Shepherd started having a relationship. How…poetic.

With a sigh barely contained on her lips, her head bowed, Amanda started waiting. She didn’t know how long it exactly passed, but a couple of minutes later, from her left side, far away from the gas tank, she heard shouts.

She perked up where she was perched, the sudden, loud clamor bringing her out of her stupor. She could even hear the metal thudding as smoke rose from one of the trailers’ roof thinly.

What the hell?!

She quickly straightened and started running toward it, slipping through the parked trailers, cars, and containers. Something was happening, and all of her instincts were also telling her it wasn't a good thing. Amanda always trusted her gut feeling. It smelled trouble miles away. They needed to be away from this place as humanly as possible.

God, they needed that explosion like now!

She sneaked between the rows of unused vehicles like a ghost in the dusk of sunset then just before she reached to the end row, she saw it. There were men with gas masks, five of them she counted quickly. They were herding up two men through the containers, their faces hidden beneath black sacks, but even though Amanda couldn’t see them, she still recognized the clothes.

Bob had a raincoat like that, and Glenn had that tee shirt! She knew because she’d borrowed it from him after her own bloodied uniform’s tee became a ruin during her surgery.

She knew it. She fucking knew it.

She tossed a glance to the container from which’s roof the thin smoke still was rising in the darkening sky. This was certainly no good. Even though she would doubt her gut feeling, she would never doubt black sacks over the heads. That was bad news, always. She gazed at the smoke again, making her decision. Daryl and Joan would see it in the air, would come to check. She told herself that as she turned aside to follow Glenn and Bob.

# # #

“You were right about her—” the dark curly hair nurse whispered to Daryl as they both stayed hidden behind the trailer after Shepherd left them. Twisting his neck, Daryl gave the woman a look. “Your friend—” she elaborated plainly. “She didn’t sell us out—” A paused before Joan added; “I think.”

Daryl made a noise.

In return, Joan gave him a look, too, almost curious, and Daryl wished she stopped doing it. He somehow got stuck with her, and he was getting annoyed. “Are you really going to do it?” Suddenly the woman questioned, “Teach us how to do in the woods?”

And Daryl was really getting annoyed. Until this point, she’d been a good…team member. She didn’t express interest in any way to make any conversation, spoke only when it was absolutely necessary but always listened to his instructions without a question. All in over, she was possibly the best rookie he’d ever been paired up with, so Daryl wished again she stopped doing whatever this was what she was doing. 

He adjusted the sling of his crossbow over his shoulder over the backpack with guns and the woman’s eyes skid to it. “Carl and Beth would like to learn how to use a crossbow,” she commented.

Daryl shrugged. “Carl’s got his sword now.”

They’d lost Michonne, just the day they got Carol back, and just like Daryl knew since he was a little boy. The world had a cruel, sick way to even things out. Yet, he was still tired of losing people. Michonne didn’t deserve to die, but that never meant a lot.

The woman beside him finally shut up after then, and in silence they stayed hidden, waiting Rick to rain holly hell down upon these fucking bastards, but a few seconds later, Joan turned to him again, facing him directly. “I’m not gonna fuck you—” she declared, her eyes staring at him openly.

Daryl frowned. Why the fuck all lunatics found him? Did he have a sign over his forehead that said he could take people’s shit? First Bob, now this.

“Amanda told me once you’re not like that,” she continued, almost conversationally. “That you do things differently, and perhaps you do,” she went on, shrugging. “But I _still_ want you to know it.”

“Don’t worry,” he roughed out dismissively, turning away from her. “I don’t wanna fuck ya.”

He felt her eyes narrowing at him. “You swing at the other boat?”

His head snapped at her. “Mind your damn business.”

“But I _am_ ,” she shot back, the emphasis strong in the last word. “In my experience, some things are better to be talked about beforehand, just so there’d be no misunderstandings later.”

Daryl shook his head. “Don’t worry,” he repeated again. “I ain’t interested.”

She nodded briskly. “Glad to know we’re on the same page.”

For a minute he felt he should reply that, a snippy retort or something like that, but the next second Daryl only shrugged. After all, they were on the same page. She fell silent, too, as if she were satisfied with making her point, so no further conservation was needed.

So glad to know they were on the same page, indeed. He turned aside, checking the scene, then caught a thin smoke rising in the air from their opposite direction. Noticing it, Joan followed his eyes, too. “What’s that?” she asked.

“I’unno—” Daryl straightened and gestured at her. “C’mon, let’s check out.”

# # #

Rick expected to see an outdated warehouse with decay and corroding metal, but what Carol led them to was the station’s main building’s adjourned chapel. Rick gave the grey-haired woman a side look in question. “The warehouse got a back door from the chapel,” Carol explained, motioning with her hand the back entrance.

Rick didn’t wait. He opened the wooden the door, slipped in and halting in his steps, he stared.

“I guess I should’ve warned you first,” Carol commented in whisper beside her as Rick still stood beside the door. Carol closed the door behind them quietly. He’d also been expecting an outdated, old-fashioned chapel like the building itself. What he was seeing though was something entirely else.

The small room had a tall domed roof in classic style, an altar. Rick could see the traces of the wooden furniture left behind on the floor, but now it was all empty, like a small size cavern, only lit by candlelight. Countless of them were placed on the empty floor, casting shadows over the walls, turning the place something…a mystical that made the small hair on his back stood up again.

There were many heaps of stuff and flowers clustered at the tiles, circled with the lit candles as if in a ritual, and the walls—Wandering his eyes around, Rick read the scripts on the walls, handwritten in red, big letters… _"we first always"_ the first one declared, following with an angry _"never again, never trust"._

We first always.

Even though the mantra was of his own, the words made him his jaw square. They were a family, bonded by shared experience, companionship, loss, and well, sometimes even out of necessity, but these people…these people had turned this into a cult.

“They said it wasn’t like this first,” Carol suddenly spoke next to him with a low voice, gazing at the scripts. “ _They_ weren’t like this. The signs were real. They put them out of the goodness out of their hearts.” She paused. “Then bandits came. They took the place, closed them up in the containers. They hurt them. Hurt them very badly.”

Rick studied the room closer and realized the chapel was also a shrine, dedicated to their lost ones, with the clear warning. _Never again, never trust._

“They fought, took the place back—” Carol went on explaining. “But the damage was done.” There was hesitancy in her tone now, a sadness she could barely keep hidden. “They say you’re either the butcher or the cattle.”

Rick shook his head. “That’s not an excuse.” There were no excuses now. You just did what you had to survive, but they didn’t need to do _this_. “They only had to put away the signs and learn to protect themselves better.”

“Maybe—” Carol agreed. “But you know how the saying goes…” She paused again, her eyes still on the scripts. “Beware that when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become one.”

 _For when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you,_ Rick completed inside. Outside, he just shook his head again. “They made their choice.”

Carol nodded again in agreement. “That they did.”

At the end, they were nothing but the sum of the choices they made.

For a second, looking at the blood colored scripts, Rick thought again if he would tell her the truth about Lizzie, but something kept the words away from his thoughts. The next second, he realized he didn’t know anymore, not as sure as before.

They were both right. Rick still felt the need to come clean, to own his actions, and Amanda was right, too. Sometimes it was really better not to know. Even Carol had told him no one had to know it was her who had killed Karen and David.

What would Rick do in her stead now? Would have he let it go, looked at the other side, killed Karen and David himself to stop the disease spreading? There were no easy answers now, only choices they made.

His eyes turned to the walls again, and these people had made theirs, like them. Rick remembered the conversation he had this morning with Carl as his son asked him— _And who are we, dad?_

His answer was still the same. He knew who he was, what he was, and there were no qualms in him about it, no second guessing. Perhaps Shane had been right all along. Some people weren’t simply supposed to be alive in this world anymore.

He turned away from the scripts and gestured with his head. “Let’s go—”

They walked to the back door, both not giving any glances what lay around them. The door was unlocked. Rick almost snorted, then they stepped inside.

The small room looked like a long, narrow cellar than a proper warehouse, a few metals shelves lined up against the walls. The only other furniture was the table at the wall across them, different items set upon it. The shelves were almost empty. At the first glance, Rick understood they were low on supplies, possibly only taking in what people they’d lured in had when they arrived but not going out for supply runs themselves.

So, so stupid.

They found the firecrackers stashed at the upper row of the shelves. It took less than two minutes. He wondered for a while if he also went and checked out the armory. According to Carol, the armory was different. They had a full stack with ammo and guns as the station had its own armory for decades to protect themselves from vagabonds and homeless.

Rick felt the conflict. He was here to save his family, his priority was getting them out of this place as fast and soon as possible, but guns were also guns. They always deserved a moment of contemplation.

After his moment was done, he decided that he couldn’t take the risk. He couldn’t risk his family, even for obtaining guns. He took the firecrackers, and the cannon that would fire them before he gestured to Carol.

They left the warehouse, quickly crossing the chapel without bothering themselves now with the sight and left the building. Carol took them in the narrow street between the separate wings of the buildings. At the end of the street, at his right, near the fences, Rick faintly could see the gas tank.

They were so close. He picked up the canon higher in his arm as Carol was carrying the firecrackers. There were only three of them, but it was more than enough. Even one would do it. They had a few yards between them now. He wondered how closer they needed to be to hit the tank. They still needed to make a hole in it with gun, making the gas slip off for the explosion, in conclusion they needed to get nearer.

They were about to do so, too, when the shouting from the other side of the narrow street reached to them suddenly, and giving each other a brief glance, they hid behind the shadows beside the building’s brick wall.

It was a good thing that the sun was partly set, the gloom of the sunset creating them cover. They stuck at the side of the building and got closer to see what was happening. Rick came nearer at the edge and poked his head out briefly, but it was more than enough.

Two people, with black head sacks, led into the building next to their left beside the chapel, and—he knew who they were. He couldn’t see their faces, but he could see other stuff.

“Are they—” Carol asked in an answer, peeking out behind his shoulder—Rick caught her off.

“Yes.”

Carol sharply inhaled and turned to him. “They’re—they’re taking them to the abattoir!” she whispered to him fiercely.

Rick felt the blood drained off him.

He couldn’t be sure of the tall man, but it looked like Bob’s raincoat, but Rick was sure the other man was Glenn! His brother—the man who had saved him the first time at the city, had come for him, had brought him back to this family—the man who was the best of them—and these bastards had chosen him first!

Anger fired in his blood, the rage, his hands fisting, his tongue copper and metallic… He swallowed lowly in his throat, looking at the place darkly. It was the high time these people learned what it meant retribution.

He turned to Carol. “Can you do it?” he asked directly. “You need to get closer, only a few yards, then you shoot. Can you do it?”

Carol only nodded. “After the explosion, all of you fall back like we talked,” he instructed further. “We’re gonna find you there.”

He started taking a step outside the road, but Carol’s hurried whisper stopped him. “Rick!” the woman called out to him. “Be careful. These people—they seem like jovial, almost harmless, but they’re dangerous.”

Of course, they were. Peaceful people wouldn’t have done what they did, wouldn’t have survived what they had, either. Rick left her then, sliding into the building.

It was a spacious, empty hall, but Rick could hear the voices downstairs. There was another entrance at the other side, like each building in the complex, possibly to make the passengers and workers of the old terminal reach their destination easier and quicker. Also making it easier to infiltrate. If they lived in this place, the security would’ve been a nightmare.

He was also almost at shock how these people left the entrances unattained, how secure they must feel behind their walls and fences like children. Such a big, grave mistake. He got closer to the staircase, listening to downside. They must be in the basement.

The—abattoir, as Carol had put it, must be at downstairs. It was cooler and also out of sight. His expression shifted further, his jaw almost hurting now. He started taking the staircase, but before he took the first step, the door at the other side suddenly opened, and a woman stepped in—no…slipped in—and she turned aside—

“Amanda—!”

“Rick!”

They whispered to each other at the same time.

# # #

“Rick!” Amanda exclaimed in a rough, throaty whisper, staring at him wildly as she scurried toward him. “ _What_ are you doing here?”

He was supposed to make shit go boom, goddammit!

But Rick being Rick Grimes only looked back at her sternly. “I saw them taking Glenn and Bob—” he explained. “Carol’s going the gas tank.” He paused for a second, and Amanda sensed…hesitancy in his words. “How did you find this place?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I was checking the train cars,” she started explaining. “Heard the clamor, then saw them taking away Glenn and Bob. Their faces were hidden, but I recognized them.” Rick gave her a half nod. “What’s this place?” she questioned as a part of her wondered if she really wanted to know. “They brought them blindfolded.” She shook her head a little. “It’s never a good sign.”

The grave look Rick gave her back would’ve been even enough, but Rick also said; “Carol said—abattoir.”

Amanda felt bile rose in her throat as her face paled, then she panicked… Glenn and Bob—they’d taken them to that place! She jumped up on him and clawed at his forearm. “We need to get them outta there!”

“You go and find Carol,” Rick told her with a jerk of head and Amanda couldn’t fucking believe it. “I’m gonna find them.”

“Rick, don’t be ridiculous!” she fumed. “You need me!”

She counted five men. He couldn’t take five men with guns all by himself on their own grounds, while trying to protect two more! They weren’t in the woods anymore.

“Amanda—”

“Stop trying to protect me!” she lashed out. “I’m _not_ like your wife!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she closed her eyes, exhaling sharply, wanting to kick her own ass! Why—why she always did this! WHY?

She opened her eyes— “Rick—” she started, but he cut her off.

He was looking at keenly, with that look again, and for a second, Amanda just wanted to sit down and—cry—she didn’t know. She didn’t know why everything had to be this hard!

“No, you’re not—” Rick remarked, as if he was giving away a secret, but she had no damn idea of what. “This’s gonna be ugly—” he went on. “Are you sure you want to see it?”

Then Amanda realized it. He wasn’t trying to protect her from _them_. He was trying to protect her from the ugly… He didn’t want her to see it. She knew what she was going to see down there. Another basement, just more ugliness, the thing that she’d always tried to run away from.

She gulped, bowing her head as she shook it. “I always told myself that girl would’ve been me, Rick. That I was lucky it wasn’t.” She raised her head and looked at him. “I—I can’t run away this time,” she confessed. “I _have to_ be there. There’s Greene blood in my veins. I can’t leave Glenn to that.”

Giving her another long look, Rick finally nodded, taking her hand. “Let’s go.”

Hand to hand, they started climbing down the staircase. It was probably mad, going like this to…a raid, but Amanda didn’t care. Not at the moment. It was a kind gesture, for her own benefit, because he knew what they were going to see down there was going to stay with her forever. The hall when the staircase finished was dark, scarcely lit with the pale, yellow lights at the wall that was flicking on and off like firelight.

It cast shadowy figures on the dirty walls, which color she couldn’t even see. It was also cooler, as if sun couldn’t reach down there. The logical reason for that choice came to her mind but Amanda pushed it away, wasn’t letting it slip into her barriers.

She kept herself crisply out of her environment—didn’t let her memories block her senses, another dark, filthy basement rule over her mind. No. She didn’t want to be here. But Glenn was here, so she was going to be. It was simple as that.

They stopped in front of the door at the far end. Rick placed his ear against it, listening to the other side. Amanda couldn’t hear anything. Rick gave her a look, and finally took his hand away. They both drew out their guns. Rick held the door’s handle with one hand and raised his gun as Amanda took cover at his blind spot.

Standard cop job, she told herself, something she’d done countless times, as easy as breathing to her. The thought stopped the tremors in her hands, steadying her aim.

She was doing her job.

Rick cracked the door open and they stepped in.

The room inside was big, cooler, empty—and it wasn’t. She felt like something squeezed at her chest—gripping her throat—sick…so sick, so vile, so…ugly.

It was so ugly.

All around them there were bodies, torsos that hung at the hooks from the ceilings. Some of them were half cut, some of them still intact in one piece, and those were even worse—and Amanda saw a small body fixed on the forked hook—

She dropped on her knees and started vomiting. She’d eaten almost nothing today, just a few bits from the squirrel and the mash, but she still hurled out her stomach, the acidic bile forcing its way out of her throat.

Arms, firmly muscled arms wrapped themselves around her as Rick knelt beside her. He didn’t say anything, just held her head back as she vomited, pulling her hair back from her shoulders. Oddly, the gesture somehow calmed her, her stomach setting down.

She raised her head and looked at him. “You okay?” he asked her in whisper, so low, barely audible, his free hand cupping her cheek, looking at her eyes.

Amanda nodded. “I—I vomited too at my first homicide scene,” she whispered back, standing up. “Some things never change.”

“Don’t you ever change—” he told her, his lips brushing to her ear as he drew up with her.

Her heart hurt—actually hurt at the words, the way he’d said it—almost imploring. She lifted her eyes and looked at him again. “Let’s find our friends.”

Rick nodded.

# # #

He was going to kill these bastards, simple enough, he was going to do it. Nothing— _nothing_ would stop him.

The scene…the room just made it clear in his mind, absolute. Some people simply _shouldn’t_ be alive in this world anymore. They were far better dead for everyone’s sake.

And, Amanda was right. Sometimes it was just better not knowing.

It hit him like a bullet in his heart. Rick might not be vomiting on the floor like Amanda, but this—it was too much, too fucking much, monstrous. Pulling herself back together, Amanda passed a hand over her face, breathing deeply and nodded at him again. “Let’s go.”

Rick really, really wished she could always stay the same, always be the brave, caring woman that always tried to do her best. A fighter to the end.

They walked closer to the only door the dry storage room had, and finally heard the voices again. Amanda turned to him. “How we’re gonna do it?” she asked, looking at him. “When Carol can explode the tank?”

“She needs a few minutes more, I think—” Rick answered, a frown pulling his brows in. His first idea was to go inside in hot and stall them until the gas tank exploded, then they would run in the chaos. But with Amanda, he couldn’t take the chance.

But she also said; “We have to stall them then—” 

“Too dangerous,” he replied quickly and cracked the door open to spy inside. The sounds came louder. He heard two men—men with jumpsuits, one holding a bat as another holding a clip entered into his vision as well.

He revealed the door a bit wider, Amanda rising on her toes behind his back, peeking over his shoulders to see, and he heard a sharp inhale from his back. Glenn, Bob, and two men and a woman were all knelt down over, bent over a big stainless-steel trough, their faces open now instead their mouths gagged. Everything inside was grey and inox, stainless steel without a spot, Rick would see—clean. Hygienic.

His hand free fisted in anger.

One of the men walked behind the line and stood at the back of the woman. The man with the bat bludgeoned the back of her head with one swift motion, making her fall over the trough further. The second man bent down, pulling her head backward, revealing her throat. His hand raised and slit her throat with the sharp knife in his hand. He let go of the woman. Her body fell inside the trough, bleeding out. Rick decided he was going to kill these people with the sword at his back. Guns—guns were far too easy for them, too _quick_.

He glanced over to Amanda. Her face was still pale, ghostly white, but instead of the catatonic shock she’d been suffering last night, her expression now only bore a decisiveness. She was in her full fighter mode, which made Rick a bit relieved. It was becoming quite obvious that he was going to need her this time.

The men came the second person at the row, and Rick grew more agitated. With each minute they passed, someone was dying, and they were getting closer to Bob and Glenn. Glenn was at the head at the other side, Bob beside him, but Rick didn’t want to see any other person die today if he would help it.

Rick turned aside. “Wait here until Carol does it—” he whispered to her as she looked at him with widened eyes—

“What are you going to do?” she asked in the same agitated manner, her hands clawing at his forearm again.

He didn’t know. He—he was just going to improvise again. The last time he did it, he managed to kill six men with only his hands and teeth. He was just going to play the ball. He almost walked in but at the same time, a man—a younger man with a ledger in his hands walked out of the room at their backs with three more.

The man walked before them, looking at Glenn, Bob, and others, and turned to his people. “Two from A, another two from C, and an B?” he asked to check, and Rick realized he was talking about the containers. _They got half of an alphabet._

Rick wondered if this was how Sam had died—his life ending up like this over a stainless-steel trough, bleeding before he was hung upside down from the ceiling, waiting to be consumed.

His jaw hurt as he seethed silently. He was going to kill these people, then let them turn, so he could kill them again. Killing them _once_ didn’t seem enough for the hatred and rage were building inside him now.

Glenn had started to watch the newcomer carefully as Bob started making noises. Rick understood the man had to be upper on the pole, perhaps even their leader.

Lifting his head up at him, staring at him wildly, the former combat medic shook his head, making noncommittal voices, “Hmmppptf hmmpp—”

With a contained sigh, the leader closed the ledger in his hands sharply. Walking closer, he bent down and yanked the cloth down over his chin. “Yes?” he prompted, sounding bored.

“You—you don’t have to do this—” Bob started, but the man cut him off.

“Don’t we?” he asked, as if he was taken aback as he took a step back. “Really?” he went on and smiled a bit. “I must’ve missed the memo.”

“We—” Bob continued, as though he hadn't been interrupted. “We have this guy. He’s a scientist. We were going to bring him to D.C. He’s got a cure!” the medic fired rapidly, almost crazy to make them listen to him as Glenn stood motionless beside him, but Rick’s eyes skipped over to Amanda again and they shared a look again—

 _A cure?_ she asked silently.

 _A scientist?_ Rick asked back.

What the hell was the medic talking about? “He knows how to stop it—” Bob continued with the same brazen madness, his voice imploring. “We can put the world back to how it was—” he bellowed. “You don’t have to do this, Gareth!”

 _Gareth_ , aka the last sonofabitch Rick was going to kill for everyone’s benefit, only shook his head, just like he did inwardly. “Can’t go back, Bob—”

“We can!” Bob insisted stubbornly as the man stepped in closer, bending down, rising the cloth over his chin again. “You don’t have to—” soon the medic’s voice was cut off, as he was gagged again.

Rick had no idea what that was about, and he didn’t care, either. Perhaps they were just trying to stall, the way Rick wanted to, or something had happened with them on the road. Still, Rick didn’t care. He knew one thing clear. There was no going back now. This was the real world.

He turned to Amanda. “Wait for Carol, then come in—” he started—

“Rick—” Amanda cried out in whispers, cutting him off again, clawing at his arm. “No!”

He grabbed her at her shoulders. “Do you trust me?”

Her eyes on his, she didn’t hesitate to nod. “Wait until Carol does her job, then come in—” he repeated. “I’m gonna stall them,” Then without waiting an answer from her, he opened the door—loudly—and walked in.

All of them turned to the sound, their faces showing off their surprise and confusion. Good. It was Gareth who talked first.

“What’re you doing here?” the man began exasperated, “These shift ain’t for the newcomers—” he said, then paused, giving Rick a longer look, his eyes seizing him up and down, lingering on his holster and the sheath of the sword a few seconds more. His eyes narrowed. “You ain’t one of the newcomers,” the man deducted quickly after then.

Rick nodded briefly. “I’m Rick Grimes—” he introduced himself, “The deputy of King County’s Sheriff Department—” he continued, walking to them, and gestured at Glenn and Bob at the trough. “These are my friends.” He paused before he decided to tell him the truth. “I’ve come to rescue them and kill you.”

Gareth let out a laugh, sharing a look with his own friends. “I guess that means Brandon’s at the outer watch,” he quipped with a rolling eyes before he turned to Rick again. “I’ll give you that, Sheriff—” He yelled at Rick. “You know how to make an entrance.”

The men laughed with good spirit. “But you see we’re an on tight schedule, and you’re interrupting it!” Gareth nodded at his men, taking a step backward. “Take him.”

Rick pulled out his revolver. He’d loaded his Colt Python again with the bullets they’d found. He got six rounds and Michonne’s katana. He’d survived worse odds.

“Just let them go—” he ordered as the men stopped seeing his gun. “And we’ll be gone—” he lied, boldly, knowing they wouldn’t buy it. Rick didn’t care about that, either. He wasn’t here for honesty. He was here to save his friends and kill them, but he needed that explosion. Like now. “You better let us go.”

“Not going to happen, man—” one of the men said, shaking his head as the same time it happened.

The room around them suddenly ringed with a loudest crack—the walls shaking—the debris falling over on their hands. It made Rick remember the tank’s fire—how their roofs had fallen over their heads, and payback was a good karma.

“What—” they exclaimed with shock, looking at each other. Rick wasted no time after then. He fired the Colt Python at the man closest to him as Amanda suddenly burst in the room from his back, firing openly.

He took a step aside to protect from the fire and gave her room to cover his back. He twisted aside, targeting the man closer to Glenn and Bob at the head.

When the man was down, Rick started running toward them, Amanda on his heels. The grounds and walls were still shaking beneath their feet. “We’re under attack!” Gareth shouted, running toward the room at the back.

Rick stopped beside the trough, checking the man who he’d just lost behind the backdoor. Rick looked down and looked at Glenn. His neck craned upward at the edge of the trough, Glenn was staring at him with wild shock, bedazzled.

Rick walked closer. “Hey—” He greeted the younger man, uncovering his mouth. “Ya okay?”

“Rick?!” Glenn exclaimed. “What’re you doing here?”

“Saving you—” he quipped, bending down to cut the binds of his hands at his back, taking his knife. Amanda covered their backs as the others fell back, leaving the room, realizing he wasn’t _only_ one man. “C’mon—” he urged on, passing to Bob. “We gotta be quick.”

He stopped beside the other two men, looking at him with wide opened eyes, filled with dread, confusion, and…hope. Rick thought about it a second or so before he asked them, “You wanna live?” They nodded quickly, eagerly. Rick bent down to cut off their ties. “Then fight for your lives.”

They all stood up. Rick gestured at them, turning to the back room. If Gareth had come out and gone there, then there had to be a way out. He opened the door. They quickly crossed the small managing office, and he saw another door at the back, leading another passageway.

They crossed the passageway, debris falling on their heads, ground still trembling beneath their feet. Rick gave his hunting knife to Glenn but kept the sword and his gun. Soon they saw another door and exited out of the narrow street between the wings of the main building.

He could see the gas tank, fire and dark smoke rising toward the darkened sky in a column, and he saw Carol too. “Go out—” He motioned them towards the broken walls. “We need to get out before the place’s overrun!”

“Where’s Maggie?” Glenn screamed, turning around. “I have to find Maggie.” Rick looked at them. They were armless, not a good idea. “Carol, Amanda—” he told, turning to the women, “you take them out. We look for others. We meet where we discussed.”

Amanda shook her head. “Carol, you take them out.” She turned to Rick. “I’m coming with you.”

First, he opened his mouth to object again, but the next second, he realized he still wanted her beside him. He nodded quickly. They started running to the other side as Carol led his own herd to the back exit.

They took Glenn in their between, running under the shadows of the building, looking around to see familiar faces, then Rick saw _one_. Ahead of them, the man he’d promised to kill was entering into the chapel.

The warehouse, Rick understood then. They must’ve hidden something in it.

He fastened his pace, sprinting after him, Glenn and Amanda following him. They entered the shrine a few seconds later as the man was running to the backdoor that led to the warehouse.

Rick stopped, raised his gun, and aimed, “Stop.”

His hand at the door’s handle, he didn’t listen to him. A gunshot echoed loudly in the tall dome, ringing in his ear.

Still, they heard his cry of pain as Gareth fell on his knees, holding his hand. Beside him, Glenn and Amanda both were staring at the cult’s shrine with widened eyes, their eyes wandering around the walls, reading the scripts… _We always first._

Gareth turned and crawled on his knees, bent down, holding his wounded hand that Rick had ripped off with his revolver. “You fucking sonofabitch!”

“You just had to stop—”

The man crawled further, closer to the small altar beside the door, shaking his head. “You don’t know how it was—” he muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t know how it’s—”

Rick shook his head, too, in answer. “Yes, I do.”

The man’s head raised, and he looked at Rick with hatred, pain, and rage. “They took everything! And they laughed!” he screamed. “But we heard the call.”

“You’re either the butcher or the cattle?” Rick asked, walking closer to him.

Gareth looked at him again, stopping close to the altar. “But you do understand, don’t you, man?”

Rick shook his head again. It didn’t matter if he understood or not. “You were stupid. You made a mistake,” he told the man truthfully. “You just should've put down the signs and learned to protect yourself better. You didn’t have to do this, Gareth.” He paused. “Besides, I already made you a promise.” He’d told the man he was here to kill him.

Gareth shook his head, understanding his words. Amanda and Glenn were standing beside him now, only listening the exchange silently. “It was nothing personal,” the man almost sobbed, perhaps trying to play with his conscience. “We—we gotta survive—” he cried out and swore. “But I swear, it was nothing personal!”

Rick looked at him coldly. “Yeah, you could do to this anyone who crossed your path, right?”

Survival at all costs. But still it didn’t guarantee longevity. Reading his stern, cold look, the surviving monster shook his head agitated. “We’ll stop!” he swore again fiercely. “We can come back!” Rick took a step closer, shaking his head, and reached for the Michonne’s sword.

“Can’t go back, Gareth,” Rick repeated the man’s own words, and drew out the sword. Candlelight shone at the sharp edge—like how sun glinted on it before the blade had fallen on Hershel’s neck. You just couldn’t go back. There was no going back.

Gareth looked at him in fear, eyes widened even more in understanding— “We can—we can, man—” he still insisted, though, as Rick raised the blade higher, watching the light flickering over the surface—and turned to the man.

And he whispered, “Liar.”

# # #

“Liar.”

Amanda heard the whispered word, then the glinting sharp blade under the candlelight started falling on the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray for the "Liar." I always wanted Rick to utter those words to one of his villains in the show, to Negan or Gareth, as Rick started to channel his inner Shane and Governor heavily. They played with liar thing in Season 8 a bit, but I wanted to do more. Terminus saga is finished now, because I really want them now moving on--on their way to Alexandria unknowingly. And they're all together now. It's been long.  
> I tried to build Rick's mentality around his Season Six persona, was inspired a lot by his talk with Deanne, using it to explain how he got to the point. Also with his views on Terminus, I tried to show a lighter effect, as he also channeled Amanda's mentality with a bit darker twist. Rick is really a piece of work in these times, so I hope I'm giving him justice, He's more like an anti-hero now than an hero. Also having a very dysfunctional relationship with Amanda...on-off again of sorts. It's fun :D  
> Like always, tell me what you think if you're still reading. Thank you! *ciaociao*


	40. Chapter 40

XL.

“DARYL!” Maggie cried out over her smile, yelling as she rushed at the container’s door. For a second or so, she even couldn’t believe it, it felt like a dream or something—but Maggie could recognize that southern drawl from anywhere—heavier than hers, and she never thought before she could’ve been this happy to hear it.

They were here! Their friends, their family…they’d found them!

“Daryl!” Maggie called out again, resting the side of her face at the door to hear better, “Is that you?”

“Stay back!” Daryl’s distinctive drawl shouted at her an order, “We’re gon’ take y’all outta ‘here!”

Taking quick steps back at the other side of the 40” container, Maggie gestured at her companions to do the same. She wondered who else was with them. She’d heard a feminine voice, too, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. It wasn’t Beth. It wasn’t Amanda or Michonne, either. The voice was rougher than the police officer’s clear, acute tone but softer than Michonne’s blunt edges. She didn’t know who else it might belong to, the rest of them had been in the bus. But nevertheless, she was glad it wasn’t Beth.

The thought gave her a shiver. Maggie didn’t want to see her sweet sister anywhere close to this place. She wanted to get out. She wanted to find Glenn and Bob and get the hell out of here. Everything was going to be okay. She’d known it. They were here. They’d come to save them. They only had to get out now.

She knew they were still going to have to fight their way out, though. She could hear the gunshots, screams, shouts even inside the container, louder and louder each passing minute. But it was okay. They always did. A gunshot echoed inside the container with a deafening boom over the other fighting sounds as Daryl fired at the bolt outside. Maggie wondered what they’d done, how did they manage to make the explosion, but all of those were questions for later. First, they had to get out of this container.

The metal door started cracking open a few seconds after the shot, and Maggie ran toward it again as Daryl yanked it open completely.

The tracker—he must’ve been the best sight Maggie had seen for a long time. Behind his shoulder at the last step of the make-shift mini staircase, Maggie also saw to whom the voice belonged to.

Joan was standing at the step below Daryl, looking at them agitated. For a second, Maggie was surprised, not only because they’d never been close in the prison, the former nurse had never gotten close to anyone other than Noah and Amanda, but the last time Maggie had seen the woman, Joan had been running away from the bus with Noah, for her life, like them, but at the opposite direction. If they were alive, then it meant others still might be alive, as well.

Maggie felt relief at that as Daryl threw a black backpack over his shoulder, crouching down at the last step and started opening it with fast hands. He hadn’t even cast a glance at her companions. She got closer to them, bending down to see better. There were guns inside the bag. _Guns!_

She took the Glock Daryl handed her, “How did you find us?” she questioned, as Sasha and the rest of them, led by the sergeant approached, “Did you see my message? Is Beth with you?” she fired the questions without a breath. She’d began suspecting it wasn’t only two of them. The shouts were much louder outside—a big, massive black column of smoke was twirling up in the sky toward at the backyard with fire.

But instead of answering, Daryl merely shook his head, his eyes finally tossing a look at their new friends, quickly assessing. “They’re with us,” Maggie informed quickly, standing up.

Daryl didn’t even bother with a nod. “We gotta get outta here—” he only said back, handing the guns out, but still his eyes stayed at the big muscled sergeant a second longer as he did.

Maggie shook her head fiercely. “They took Glenn and Bob—!” She checked the gun and loaded the magazine, pulling back the safety, “We need to find them first.”

“We heard shouts before, saw a smoke—” Joan commented behind him as the sergeant handed another Glock to his girlfriend, “Was that for you?”

Maggie nodded. “Did you see them taking Glenn and Bob?” she questioned, desperate to know where they’d taken her husband. She had to get Glenn back, had to find him, but this place was big, had too many warehouses, buildings. They would’ve taken Glenn and Bob to everywhere. It’d take a while to search it. They didn’t have time for that.

She looked at her friends with hope. They must’ve seen a clue or a trail, Daryl was the best tracker in the world. He must’ve noticed something that would’ve made them to find Glenn faster, but they only shook their heads.

Maggie kicked the frame of the door. “Amanda was checking out this part of the train park,” Joan said then quickly. Maggie twisted aside at her, surprised to hear it, “she might’ve seen something.”

Amanda was here, too! This day was getting better and better. If Amanda was here, then Rick might be, too… They’d been together at the fence when that bastard had—Maggie stopped the thought. She didn’t want to remember that. “Rick is here, too?” she asked instead, but before they could answer, the Sergeant cut in, joining them at the steps.

“Folk, I appreciate happy reunions, but gotta get outta here before it turns more snafu!” He gestured at them wildly with his big, chunky muscled arms like logs, “Let’s move out.”

Daryl nodded, “Yeah—move out—” and repeated, taking the mini steps back.

They didn’t make them repeat. As they ran through the train cars, Maggie could see it better too, not only hear it, the chaos around them. The wide column of dark smoke was covering everything under a polluted blanket—making it hard to breath, their throats catching with it, and there were walkers coming in from that direction.

It looked as a good idea to stay away from there, but of course typically Daryl pointed toward it. “That’s our escape route—” he informed them, running behind a car, “We exploded the gas tank. The fences are down.”

Then Maggie understood the plan. They were trying to make the place overrun by walkers, utilizing the chaos they’d created to escape. And judging by what she was seeing around herself, Maggie could say it was working.

She saw two men getting caught unawares by walkers, their screams ringing in the air over the gunshots. Maggie felt nothing, even pity seeing them being devoured alive.

It was the devil’s share. Daryl had said once that was what people like them got what they deserved, the world’s way to even things out. Maggie had never felt it so clearly before. Justice. In its simplest, basic form.

The world didn’t belong to those monsters. Her eyes skipped at Eugene for a second as they ran toward the main building between the trailers and vehicles. The sergeant was following the scientist closer than his shadow. Maggie knew the reason. Abraham had told once that he was the most important person at the face of planet. Maggie had taken the words with a grain of salt, but she realized as they ran for their lives, her feet carried her closer to them on instinct.

They needed to keep him alive. Find each other, get the science guy to D.C., save the world. That was the plan.

They had to do it—she had to find Glenn—just as the thought appeared in her mind, as if it was a divine sign from above, as if there was still some higher power that was still looking out for them, another miracle happened.

They were half hidden behind a red, old Pontiac at the left side of the main road close to the main building, scouting the area. At the road two men were running to a small herd of incoming walkers, sub-machine guns raised in their hands, aimed. They started firing at the dead rapidly as they advanced further, and a second later passed a narrow pathway between two buildings of the complex. Maggie saw it then.

It happened _so_ quickly. Out of the narrow pathway, Rick suddenly leapt out and gripped one of the men behind his back in a tight chokehold. His right hand had already grabbed the sub-machine gun, too, and he rose the hand, the gunfire this time going up in the air.

Forcefully Rick yanked the still firing big gun from the man, his left arm coiled around the neck at the same way. It didn’t last long, though, either.

He took the gun’s control quickly, freed the man, and pushing the man away, he turned aside and killed their captors without a moment of hesitation just before he turned back and started killing the rest of walkers.

Mouths open, they all watched the scene in silence until Sergeant Abraham whispered loud, his tone for the first time Maggie had known the man sounding impressed, “Now who’s this crazy motherfucker?”

Maggie turned to him with a smile, “That’s Rick Grimes, sergeant.”

# # #

When they were out again at the narrow pathway, Amanda felt a breeze cracking coolly at her face. It was getting colder again in the evening, but closing her eyes, she stopped for a second, welcomed the coolness after the heat of the chapel’s interiors, after the fever of the moment. Glenn and Rick had done the same, halting their steps as if they too needed a second to themselves.

Inside the chapel had felt like a supernatural horror movie, the tall dome, the colored windows, flowers, the lit candles, the heaps of belongings to dead, the hand-written scripts…the heat, the sweaty warmness…candles lit in the pool of blood…everywhere…

Everything of the shrine felt ritualistic…almost satanic. For a moment or so, she even wished it would’ve been such a thing. The residents of the station would’ve been such a cult group like in the movies, losing the contact of the reality, doing irrational, cruel stuff.

She supposed _that_ that would’ve felt better than hearing the man’s causal, coarse pragmatist words to explain their reasons, the justifications. But, of course, it wasn’t that. It was another banal evil, just people who would do anything to survive a day longer.

Things were a lot easier when you painted monsters in your mind without a conscious, not ordinary people you would’ve shared dessert in your local coffee shop. People always said knowing good and bad wasn’t simple, but Amanda really begged to differ. Good and bad weren’t that complicated. It was them, people, who created the confusion.

 _I prowl, scavenge, and kill rotters,_ her words to Rick when they’d met found her, and her eyes skipped at Rick, toward the bleeding sword he was still holding in his hands. She made an amendment to her statement then. _And bad people._ They also killed bad people.

And Rick was getting rather good at it. His whispered _liar_ echoed in her mind, and the look in his eyes, the same keenness it held as if light glinting at a sharp edge… the candlelight at the sword’s edge, the sight reminiscent to the worst day in her life—the same sword landing on Mr. Hershel’s neck… She wanted to vomit again—the remnants of the bile, the vile taste was still over her tongue together with what she’d seen inside the cold basement, inside the chapel.

Perhaps Rick had been right. She just should’ve stayed back. She’d started losing her integrity, and Dawn had always used to warn them it would’ve been their downfall if they did.

But was her integrity? What was her purpose? Was she to prowl, scavenge, and kill rotters until she was dead? Or just stay alive as much as she could without hurting anyone? Or help others? Protect them like Rick?

She’d wanted to come because Glenn was there. She’d felt she couldn’t have run away. So that was her call? Her purpose in life?

She didn’t know. She’d never. She still couldn’t even explain fully why she’d wanted to be a cop. _Don’t you ever change—_ Rick had whispered at her, words sounding much like a silent plea. But she’d changed, she had _wanted_ to change. She’d cut her hair, she’d—

Her thought abruptly stopped as she saw a few rotters slowly limping toward them—Jesus Christ!

She was _really_ turning crazy, contemplating on such stuff as they got circled by the dead. She turned to men as Rick stepped forward on quick feet and cut off the heads of rotters in a single swipe.

Rick was getting rather good with the sword, too, Amanda noticed, then suddenly wondered if Rick had ever used it before too. It looked like he had some experience, the sure way he’d swung the blade over his head in an arc. Amanda was quite sure they didn’t teach how to wield a katana sword in the Academy. They hadn’t taught _her_.

“The place’s getting overrun—” she spoke roughly, shooing the sudden thought away from her mind, waving her hand around, “We need to get out.”

She could hear the loud clamor now from everywhere. Rotters were swarming inside. The fighting was still going on, there were gunshots and screams, but Amanda _knew_ when a battle was lost. The place was done, just like they wanted.

Though, Glenn shook his head in response. “Maggie—” the Asian man opposed, his tone ferocious barely contained as Rick turned toward them, finishing with the dead, “We need to find them first.”

Glenn had briefed them Maggie, Sasha and their new friends were still in the containers while they had been coming out. Amanda wanted to look for them, but it’d do them no good if they kept running around the compound looking for each other in circles. They had to be smart, calm. Think this through. Panic dulled the reason, dulled the common sense, got you stupid. Got you killed.

Daryl and Joan must’ve certainly seen the smoke when they’d attacked to take Glenn and Bob, she reasoned inwardly. That was what she’d trusted on when she’d decided to go after Glenn and the medic. Daryl wasn’t an idiot. He would’ve wanted to check. Then they must’ve found Maggie and the rest of them. Perhaps they’d been already going out to the rendezvous point just like they’d talked.

“The train cars are the opposite side—” She pointed at her right side and tried to reason with the younger man, “Daryl and Joan were looking for them. They might be already going out.”

“We discussed a rendezvous—” Rick explained further, going with her as he walked back to them, “They might fall back there.”

But Glenn shook his head again, “They didn’t see me. They don’t know if I got out. Maggie wouldn’t leave—” he reasoned back, and Amanda had to admit he had a point.

Maggie would’ve never left if she didn’t know Glenn had escaped. Amanda wouldn’t have left Rick, either.

“She’s still here,” Glenn continued, turning to Rick, “Would’ve you left Lori behind if you knew she was here, Rick?” then he asked, his voice deadly serious.

Amanda tried not to react, she really did, tried to keep her face expressionless, but she couldn’t help it. Her face stiffened, even though Rick hadn’t answered the question. Instead, his eyes skipped at her, giving her a side look. She ignored it, turning her head away. She was fucking hating this!

She could feel Glenn’s confused look in the sudden tensed moment, too, but ignored it the same. She wondered if things were going to be like this now, filled with awkward, tensed silences and walking on eggshells. She wanted their friends back, but she hadn’t thought of that.

The glances Carol had given them were already enough, but now… She imagined the looks and whispers almost with a shudder. Even in the prison there used to be some occasional teasing regarding them, something both Rick and she had chosen to play dumb with, but once they’d learned what had happened— God!

 _What_ had almost happened to Beth because Rick and she had acted like horny teenagers that couldn’t keep their hands off each other. She wondered what Maggie would’ve thought about that. Would the older Greene want to kick ass? Amanda definitely wanted to kick her own ass.

Rick turned to Glenn, who was still looking at them with a slight frown, but Rick’s face closed off, “A’right, we make a swipe first—” he stated, and he asked to both of them, “How much rounds have you got left?”

She shook her head, “Not much.”

Glenn did the same, rising Rick’s Colt Python. “Already out of the bullets.”

Guns and ammo were always an issue since they’d left the prison, and the backpack and small treasure inside was with Daryl. But from the rapid gunfire Amanda could surmise Terminus had brought out the shots.

As if thinking the same, Rick shook his head, as well, “They got sub-machines—” he said, “If we do this, we gotta take one.”

“How?” she asked, gesturing with her hands, “It’s not like you can go and grab one from them—” That was the thing she’d done in the prison to acquire a gun but she’d taken a pistol.

But Rick only gave her a look, “Yeah, I can.” He turned aside, sheathing the sword at his back.

For god’s sake! “Rick!” she whispered heatedly behind his back, sharing a glance again with Glenn but Rick was already at the edge of the pathway, spying the road.

With quick steps, she jogged beside him, Glenn at her heels, and peeked behind his shoulder at the main road. Rick was eyeing two men approaching toward the rotters with sub-machine guns. “Rick—” she started, realizing he was really going to try it, “This’s insane.”

In answer he twisted his neck, and said, “Wait here.” Then without waiting a response, he dodged out and grabbed the man close to his side at his neck, his right hand already on the man’s right elbow, forcing him to raise the gun’s barrel upward.

Like she’d expected, it _was_ insane, the gun was still firing continuously, but as Amanda had learned in the last days, when Rick Grimes put something in his mind, it was impossible to stop him.

He took the gun under ten second, then twisting aside, he killed the other man. He turned back to the dead afterward and started raining fire on them. When they all were dropped at the ground, decisively dead, Amanda and Glenn walked out of the narrow pathway— “GLENN!”

Amanda spun on her heels at the direction of the voice, recognizing it, as much as Glenn. Maggie—at the other side of the street was running toward her husband behind from an old red car.

Amanda smiled big as she threw herself at Glenn. Daryl and Joan walked out behind the cars a second later, followed by three people, one eclectic small man with a funny haircut, and a big muscled redhead that screamed army jarhead with his everything, dog tags and all, and a skinny Latina woman with the most unpractical outfit she’d ever seen someone wearing after the world had ended.

These people must’ve been the ones Glenn had talked about, Sergeant Ford and his crew, so Amanda relaxed, turning to the Rhees, looking at the husband-wife reunion as they kissed passionately.

Out of sudden, unexpected, something pierced through her seeing them. They pulled back an inch and caressed each other tenderly, and there were tears in Maggie’s eyes from happiness, and that unnamed thing in her grew even worse, tugging at her chest.

The question raised in her—even in the chaos. Would she and Rick ever be like this? Truly? She’d always thought wanting something, someone would’ve been enough, she had never wanted someone—wanted a relationship before she met Rick, but she was beginning to suspect it wasn’t that easy. She’d lived with Glenn and Maggie almost two months but had never seen them fight like she and Rick always did. They’d had their occasional moments, but…with them, also fighting was… _different_. She didn’t know what that meant but—

Her momentarily self-questioning interrupted as Maggie, noticing her, squeaked, and started running toward her too. “Amanda!” the younger woman threw herself at her.

Shutting of her thoughts and doubts, Amanda smiled and hugged back the biggest Greene, the woman who had given her blood for hours.

The last of Greenes was back. She was going to bring her back to Beth. Amanda didn’t want to think about the rest anymore, at least not right now.

# # #

The way she hugged Maggie made Rick’s heart grow a bit lighter, but this was no time for long reunions.

Interrupting the moment, the sub-machine gun aimed as the bullets ricocheted around them. “C’mon—we gotta go—” he shouted, gesturing with his head to come to their side.

The big redhead man was the first one that crossed the road, others following, Daryl taking their six. Rick tossed a glance at the man, checking him out quickly as the man passed him by, his eyes momentarily staying at his dog tag. Glenn had said they were friends, but they were going to see that later. The other man had a funny nerdish air. Rick wondered briefly if he was the scientist Bob had mentioned earlier. He hadn’t bought the words, perhaps Bob had been only trying to stall them just like Rick had done. Either way, he knew one thing.

There was no going back. This was the real life.

“Hurry!” he urged toward, taking the lead for the narrow pathway where they could get to the fences.

The redhead man nodded at his words, and turned to his own people, “You heard the man—” he yelled, “Move!”

But Sasha twirled around herself, looking their surroundings frantically. “Where’s Bob—?” the woman asked with panic, turning to him, and Rick read fright clear in her next question, “Did you see him?”

Her level of fright and panic was enough indication for Rick to understand that Amanda and he weren’t the only ones who had grown close to each other on the road since they’d lost prison. He nodded, “He went with Carol—”

“Carol?” Maggie turned back as she ran and stared at him in shock, “Is Carol with you, too?”

“This’s not time for small talk—” Rick remarked back, ushering them out, “We talk later—Run!”

His order was definite, his tone was firm, but still Maggie didn’t listen it. She turned to Amanda instead, “Amanda—” she called out, “Is Beth with you, too? Is she safe? I left—”

Amanda cut her off, “She’s okay,” she answered with a calmer voice, “She’s at a cabin in the woods with Carl and Judith.” She paused a second, giving the younger woman an encouraging smile, “We’re all okay, Maggie,” she said, “Let’s get outta here now.”

Nodding eagerly, Maggie this time started running faster. “Yes, ma’am.”

Amanda smiled bigger hearing the words, and Rick really felt better.

They took the fences quickly as Rick emptied the magazine of the sub-machine gun. He slid the heavy gun over his back then and pulled out the katana. The fences were half blown away with the blast like he’d expected, the debris of the wall and fences scattered around. Closer to the gas tank, the smoke and fire became worse, too, but even coughing as they ran, they didn’t stop for a breath, just pushed forward.

They had to get away, kept ahead.

He waited another disaster happen, another obstacle drive them away, but ten minutes later, they found Carol, Bob, and the other two young men from the basement were waiting them at their rendezvous point.

They all stopped, finally catching their breaths. Rick knew they weren’t still cleared out of the danger zone. They were still too close, and more walkers were coming by each passing minute drawn to noise and fire. They had to keep going, but each of them needed a moment. Even him.

What had happened at the shrine was still clinging at the back of his mind, trying to slip through his barriers, but Rick didn’t let himself think on it. Once again he'd done what he'd had to. He couldn’t have let them go—not after what he'd seen. Besides, he’d really made the man a promise. His only regret now that he couldn’t kill all of them—was letting them escape in the woods. He knew they weren’t going to stop what they did. But if those bastards had an inch of wisdom left in their scattered minds, if they had ever crossed paths again, this time they would’ve turned back and walked away.

Taking her backpack to her side, Carol offered them water from it. “Found it at the warehouse,” she explained it, giving it to Rick.

He handed the bottle first to Amanda, knowing that she would like rinse her mouth. She took it gladly, took a small sip and passed it to Maggie. Rick then turned to the two he didn’t even know their names.

They were young, possibly around Noah’s age. One of them had soft brown hair and hazel eyes with a curt jaw and handsome features. The other had darker eyes and hair, almost dark as night, and a charismatic arched nose. Rick suspected an Italian heritage.

And more importantly they were friends of no one.

Sheathing the sword back, he walked toward the young men closer. “What’s your names?” he questioned.

“John—” the one with hazel eyes answered, as the Italian one said, “Riccardo—”

Rick nodded, giving them an assessing keen look. They were all looking at him now, in waiting, then Rick understood they were waiting his decision.

He was back again to make the decisions.

Admittedly, his first thought was to leave them, even when he knew they wouldn’t survive the woods in the night alone on their own. With their attitude and standing, it was clear that they only survived so long within a group, and that group was gone now.

They were total strangers, just two lost soul in the hell.

Rick was done with saving people.

He’d only come here to find his people, nothing else. The redhead sergeant and his crew looked like they were going to tag along with them, but these two, too? He didn’t know. He was done with trying to make it better, as well. He’d already accepted they couldn’t live altogether.

Then again, they were looking at him—lost—just two lost soul in the woods, astray, and his family was looking at him, too—and his eyes wandered around, finding the familiar clear green eyes—

Amanda stared at him back as his gaze lingered on hers, then Rick knew it. He turned to the young men, “How many walkers have you killed?” he asked.

And, she smiled.

# # #

The full moon high in the sky, so it must be getting closer to the midnight. They must’ve been walking more than three hours now back to the cabin, and during the whole way back, close to the end line, feeling tired beyond belief, Amanda was drilled by Maggie Greene with questions.

Maggie had been bouncing questions, and Amanda had been deflecting them expertly, mostly fending the younger woman off reminding her to keep quiet. The woods were the most dangerous at the night, and they were too much crowded.

They were walking in the line of groups of twos, Rick having the point together with Glenn, leaving Maggie with her. Their six was covered with this new military guy and Daryl, Joan walking close to them. In the middle, there was Bob, Sasha, and the Latina woman with shorts and boots, and the new young men, and Amanda and Maggie were a few feet behind them. 

But even with her rebuffing attempts, Maggie had managed to get out from her how she and Rick had gotten out, then found Beth, Carl, Judy and Daryl at the funeral home. She briefly explained how Daryl had found Joan and Noah after then and saw the message she had left for Beth.

She’d skipped over the parts with Rick, of course, and kept to herself Lizzie, Gorman, and what had happened last night. She didn’t want to talk about Lizzie to _anyone_ , Gorman didn’t interest Maggie at all, and last night—last night wasn’t hers to tell.

She had no idea how Beth was going to recuperate with her sister, but she wanted the girl to do it on her own time. Besides, she really didn’t want to think about that anymore, nor she wanted to think about Gorman or Terminus—or anything.

They were together now—and that was what mattered.

Maggie had then told their story too in a few words, how they’d escaped from the bus after the attack when their tires had fired. Apparently, they had met with the sergeant and his group on the road and joined their forces when they learned about the cure.

All in frankness, Amanda didn’t know how she felt about it. A cure to stop this… It sounded so…fishy. But Maggie had sounded like she believed it, and Amanda didn’t want to rain on her paradise at the moment.

Tomorrow was a new day. They would think on it then. Right now, she just wanted to go back to the cabin and sleep. She wondered how they would make the sleeping arrangements now, as suddenly they’d become such a big group again.

Or how they were going to feed all that people now? Even with their lower numbers it was hard—she almost ate nothing in days, now all these people… Her eyes momentarily darted at the newcomers—they’d done the right thing. They couldn’t have left them behind. For a second, she’d feared Rick might’ve felt different again, they didn’t know anything about these people, but when you really wanted it, doing the right wasn’t really that hard.

Though, it was going to be hard. Especially tonight. Some of them was going to have to stay outside.

Rick was certainly going to take a watch all night. It was highly unlikely that he would sleep even a moment when there were so many new people joined their ranks. She wished she could’ve at least convinced him to take a break, sleeping an hour or something. He must be so tired now, too. His wounds were still fresh, and his leg must still hurt, even though he no longer limped.

As he walked at the front of their line, it was hard to remember that it was the same man who couldn’t have been able to take off his ripped off shirt alone five days ago. A small smile found her lips as she remembered how he’d had to call her back after sending her away pissed at her attitude. The moment hadn’t been funny then, but she found it now…sort of…endearing.

Suddenly she wondered if she could remember these days too with a smile one day, looking at backwards, the way they’d fought, bickered today. Would she find it endearing then?

God, she was losing it! Definitely losing it.

Her eyes found him again at the front and she gave out a subsided sigh inwardly, then she noticed Maggie’s look. She ran her eyes away quickly, realizing she was caught checking on him, and felt glad for the darkness to hide her blush.

She had no idea why she felt like this—why she felt this nervous about them learning what had happened between her and Rick. She just did.

She knew she shouldn’t, it was Maggie, the woman whose blood coursing in her veins, much like Beth’s. She wasn’t close to the bigger Greene as much as she was to Beth, yes, but still… She had dined with her at the same table, prayed with her and Mr. Hershel, holding hands. There was no reason to get nervous about it, yet here she was—blushing like a virgin.

She didn’t make any fucking sense!

Then as if it wasn’t already enough, Rick turned aside, as if he’d sensed the moment, and tossed at her a look over his shoulder. He’d done that a couple of times since they’d been separated in the ranks, and Amanda knew he was doing it on instinct, making sure she was fine back there, away from him. The first time it’d felt nice, even though she’d grown nervous again if others would’ve picked it up. This time he possibly wouldn’t have had any worse timing.

Catching his look, and the way Amanda ran her gaze away, the younger woman suddenly let out a small gasp, half bringing her hand over her mouth, giving her a look. Amanda cursed inwardly.

Maggie came closer to her, “Oh my god!” she whispered at her, so low as she made sure no one else would hear it, “You and Rick—” she continued, “It happened!”

Her heart racing in her chest, Amanda decided then to bail out, “Uh, I need to check Joan—” she rolled the words quickly, “see ya.” She turned and walked back at the end line before Maggie could say anything and let out a deep breath. Both Daryl and Joan noticed it, but kept their mouths shut.

Amanda felt eternally grateful for it.

She wondered then how long it would take them to notice that Rick wasn’t wearing his ring. Had they already noticed? What would they tell about it now? That they were in a relationship? Were they truly?

The questions were turning in her rapidly. She almost let out a frustrated scream at the top of her lungs! She fucking hated this!

Forcefully she shut off all of her thoughts and focused ahead. God, she really fucking hated the woods, too!

Less than an hour, they were back at the cabin, a big wave of relief washing over her. Carl—together with Judith was the first one who had come out. Fastening his pace, Rick jogged toward them as Amanda smiled warmly, her mind finally fully silencing.

They were back. At that moment—after Terminus, even the tiny cabin felt like…home. Rick took the baby girl from Carl in front of the entrance and hoisted it up. Her smile grew wider, seeing them like that, Rick smiling at his baby angel. This was how they were supposed to…together. Then behind them, in front of Noah, she saw Beth.

In front of her, Maggie gasped loudly, and Amanda heard her cries as the woman started running toward her sister as Beth ran to her at the same time.

As they hugged each other, Amanda felt hot, fat tears over her cheeks. She didn’t do anything to stop them. She didn’t even care.

It had finished.

Whatever the future might hold for then, it had finished.

They had found each other. For now, it was more than enough. Tomorrow, they would even sing that song.

Amanda smiled further as still gasping, Maggie pulled back an inch, holding Beth’s face between her hands. “Sweetheart—” she cried over, “Oh, sweetheart—”

Beth smiled big at her sister, too, holding her arm—her hand…her still bandaged hand. Maggie’s eyes fell on it, and Amanda felt her happiness gone as quickly as it’d come.

“What happened?” Maggie asked, looking at Beth’s wrapped hand.

She felt shame and anger finding her again as Carl bowed his head. They should’ve protected them. Never let those bastards lay a finger on them! They’d failed, they were together now, but they had failed.

Shame and anger ran deeper in her, along with the bitter taste of failure, but Beth’s eyes found hers behind her sister’s shoulder. The teenager gave her a quick look before she turned to Maggie again, “Nothing—” she told her sister, shaking her head, “It’s not important now.”

# # #

It was finished, and a part of him couldn’t still believe it.

The small cabin was too crowded now, bursting with energy and many happy meetings. Rick felt glad, he felt relieved, he felt happy that he’d managed to bring his people together now, but he also felt tired, weariness like bricks of tons at his shoulders, pressing him down to the earth.

Yet, he still couldn’t rest. Inside the cabin might be bristling with life, but things changing in here with them didn’t change things out there. Someone still had to stand on watch.

So, Rick kissed his baby girl once and gave her to Amanda who was sitting at the floor with the Greenes, Glenn and Carl at one corner. Twisting aside, she took Judith, her gaze was searching as her arms wrapped around the baby. Despite the laid-back expression over her face, she was lacking off the others’ enthusiasm. She didn’t say anything, either, only settled Judy across her lap silently, her hand playing with the baby’s little one, bowing her head.

The silent moment caught the attention of others, Carl giving him a silent look, too, and Rick ignored them all. He was just tired. He wanted solace, he wanted to cool off. It was too warm inside, the heat making him remember the chapel.

Forcing the thought away from his mind, Rick walked out. He just had to keep watch.

He started making a tour around, like he used to do in the prison along the fences. It brought the familiar peace he needed as he sensed himself cool off with the night fall breeze, his mind returning to focus on the things he should.

With the last add ups, their numbers had become sixteen, Judith and Mika included. He had no idea how they were going to keep that much of a crowd alive, safe and fed. Back at the road, the sergeant had tried once to come to his side to make a talk about that cure, too, but Rick had sent the man away with his usual answer, later.

He wasn’t in any talks tonight.

Once he was finished with his round, he sat on his usual perch at the backyard in complete silence, listening to the sounds from inside. He should go back and warn them to keep it quiet. They were making too much noise. He didn’t want to be a party pooper, his people were finally happy and together, but they couldn’t keep it like this.

It would’ve been better if they all just called it a night, but he suspected he couldn’t convince them to sleep with this new-found vigor at the reunion. But they at least must’ve kept it silent. As if feeling the same, Daryl had gone out, too, even before him, watching out the perimeters.

They had to take shifts. He wondered briefly if he could trust the sergeant with a night watch. Glenn seemed to trust the newcomers, but Rick didn’t feel at ease with the idea. At any rate, he wasn’t afraid of any thieving at least as they almost got nothing except a few guns, quasi out of the bullets.

After hearing a loud laughter from inside, Rick drew up, and turning around the cabin, he walked in again. When he showed up at the threshold, the clamor suddenly ceased—all heads turning to him.

Amanda was still sitting with the sisters, but Judith wasn’t with her now. Mika wasn’t in the room either, so they must be back in the little bedroom at the backside, fallen asleep. He couldn’t see Carol, either, so he guessed Carol had gone with them. Beth still seemed in the good mood, sitting cross-legged between Amanda and her sister, holding Carl’s flowers across her lap. Carl was seated beside them, too, across Bob and Sasha. Bob was holding Sasha’s hand. Glenn was talking with the new boys at the other side.

Momentarily, he felt it again seeing them like this, the relief—the emancipation—something was telling him each of them had lived their own version of nightmare out there apart from each other, had been tested, but at the end they were here now. And perhaps Amanda really had been right. Ignorance, sometimes, was really bliss.

When he stayed in silence at the door, watching them, their looks turned puzzled, but briefly his eyes were caught on Amanda’s again as she ran them away. “It’s getting late—” he told them then, turning from her as well, “We need to get up early tomorrow—and discuss.”

It’d finished now, so they had to look ahead. They couldn’t stay back. “Daryl and I are taking the first watch—” he continued, “Daryl’s making a patrol. I’ll at the back, checking the tree lines,” he continued, “We need to have one outside.”

Glenn rose up, “I’ll take it—”

Rick shook his head, “No. You take the next shift—” He turned to the redhead man, “You take the outside,” Rick told the sergeant. He couldn’t trust him, but he had to learn. He was going to be out, too, all night, so if the man tried anything, well, Rick was going to deal with it.

The sergeant nodded, “Aye.”

Amanda lifted her head suddenly, her eyes finding his, “I take the second watch with Glenn—” she started, but Rick cut her off quickly.

“No. You stay here—” he told her, and added quickly before they twirled into another argument on who did what, “I need you inside—” he told her, offering the olive branch, killing two birds at once with one stone. She could stay in and someone still had to keep a watch inside while others slept.

Rick knew she never fought against the logic, and even though she realized what he was going for—and she must’ve—Amanda had been always smart, she nodded simply.

And, Rick liked it—liked it very much. He was really tired. His eyes drifting around the room, he checked the interiors again. This way—a few of them outside, they could even fit in. Giving another nod at them then, Rick turned and left the cabin again.

He went to backyard and walked a bit closer toward the tree line. He sat on a tree root and put his back at its trunk. Drawing his knees up, he rested his hands over his knees, playing with fingers as he tried to find a comfortable position to pass the night.

He’d given Michonne’s sword back to Carl when they’d returned, and his Colt Python was out of rounds again, but he still had his hunting knife and the red handled machete.

He’d had worse days.

He heard a crack almost an hour later, and his head perked up listening he heard another, then other—small, faint cracks breaking lowly the silence of the night as twigs snapped beneath feet. Someone was coming. His back straightening, his hand went to his holster. A second later, Amanda emerged out around the cabin.

His eyes on her, Rick watched her slowly walking to him. “Hey—” she greeted him with a small voice. He returned it with a silent nod. “It became so hot inside,” she said further to explain as if she _still_ needed a reason to seek him out, bowing her head, “Wanted to take fresh air.”

Rick gave her another small nod, remembering the suffocating air inside the cabin, the heat… He shook his head, “I possibly shouldn’t have let them stay with us.”

He knew he shouldn’t have, like Carol had said they couldn't save everyone, only protected each other but the way she’d looked at him…

Her eyes lifted upward under her bowed head, Amanda threw at him a fleeting look again, “I—I was a bit surprised you did,” she remarked, her voice still small, barely audible.

Rick snorted low in his throat, “Yeah, me too.”

A small smile graced at her lips as she looked at him fully, rising her head. Rick patted the spot beside him at the ground, staring at her back, “Come on then, stay with me.”

The smile vanishing, her face closed off, “They’d see—”

And Rick barely held a sigh contained inside him. “I got nothing to hide—” he retorted back, his tone turning curt at the edges, and his eyes still staring at her openly he asked with the same openness because he was really getting tired of this, “Do you?”

“I—” she started, then stopped, and shrugged.

This time, Rick sighed out. How many times did they have to do this? He didn’t care if people knew. In fact, despite the possible teasing, he wanted it. He got nothing to hide. He thought at least he’d made that clear, but apparently he _still_ had not. “Amanda—” he began, but she cut him off, suddenly starting walking to him quickly.

She settled herself beside him over the tree root. She stayed in silence after then, though, but Rick waited for her to make a move again. He liked that she’d sought him out, but her hesitance was telling other stories. Just so as she didn’t make a move again, but only sat beside him in silence.

When he realized she would’ve stayed there in silence whole night, just sitting beside him if he let her, Rick decided to make it easier for her. She’d made the first move, after all. She had come to him. Rick had gotten a bit wiser for her gigs. If she didn’t want to talk, she would’ve never approached, would’ve avoided him as much as she could manage.

So Rick asked tentatively, giving her another little push, “Do—do you want to talk about it?”

He kept the question as vague as possible, giving her the chance to pick up whatever she really wanted to, and she shook her head in answer, “No—” she said slowly, but then added, “Maybe later, but not tonight.”

He nodded. Well, it was better than a simple, direct no, going with ask me later vibes again. All in honesty, Rick wasn’t sure if he was still ready for a real talk, either—whatever that might be about, especially about their past, however he might want them to be honest and open. They elapsed into a brief silence after that, each weighing what they'd left unsaid, then she broke it, asking him, turning slightly, “Do you still want to tell Carol?”

At first, he was surprised that she’d asked it, but then looking at him, he realized he really didn’t have a straight answer anymore. “I don’t know—” so he told her truthfully.

He still felt like he owed Carol the truth, he _had to,_ but after everything, he didn’t know. Perhaps tonight wasn’t just the right time. They’d earned this, they had earned tonight. “Maybe later,” Rick repeated then, “but not tonight.”

She gave him a small, rueful smile. Twisting toward her, Rick made another move, leaned on in her to kiss her—but the next second she asked suddenly, pulling back an inch from him, “Do you believe it?” His eyes narrowed as she elaborated reading his gesture false, “The cure—”

Drawing away from her, Rick pulled back, as well.

The cure. Did he believe that? That they could go back to how things were before?

“The cure—perhaps…” he said, resting his back against the tree again, “But the world going back to how it was before?” He shook his head and answered the question with a definite “No.”

No, he didn’t believe that. “Things changed. He was right. We can’t go back. This’s the real life.”

“It feels like a nightmare—” she said back.

Rick nodded, “I know.” He paused, “But there’s still no going back.”

She swallowed, and repeated his words, “I know.” Then her eyes found his, and she stated, looking at him straight in the eye, “I thought today maybe it’d be better if we ended this now.”

Rick bowed his head, looking at his hands again. He wished he could’ve said he didn’t seem this coming, hadn’t seen her struggle, her inner turmoil, but that would’ve been a lie. “A part of me thinks we shouldn’t do this,” she went on, “We can’t stay without fighting each other. I want to tell myself it’s because we’re out here, but I don’t know.”

“We don’t always fight—” he said, opposing it, and gestured with his head at the cabin. They’d done other things too. They’d brought their people back. They’d found them. They’d earned tonight. “I know we’ve had our moments, but we’re here now.”

But Amanda shook her head, “We’re here, but we fucked it up, Rick—” she said again, “Lizzie’s dead. Carl would’ve gotten lost. Beth almost got raped. We fucked it up.”

She held her head between her hands as she bowed it. “I—want you,” she continued, “ _More_ than a woman wants a man—” Rick recognized the words he’d told her before they’d had sex the first time, “I—I really do—still want to try it. I just don’t know how we can.” She let out a sigh, turning her head to him, “We literally can’t stop pushing each other,” she cried out with exasperation, “Maybe we’re just wrong for each other.”

Then Rick started having an inkling why she’d sought him out… His jaw setting, he drew away from her further, “Maybe.”

It hurt, like the truth always did—a deep pinch in his heart, and it hurt even worse when she said back squarely, “Maybe.”

Getting angrier, he turned to her swiftly, “So what?” he snapped, “Do you want to end it?” he asked again, “Is it _why_ you came to find me?” If she really wanted to end this—then they were going to end it! He wasn’t going to run in circles around her like Shane used to do!

He was not. But she was staring at him again, and he saw hesitation, confusion clouding her eyes, “Do you?” she asked back.

He shook his head, “I asked first.”

“And I asked second.”

He scoffed, “Very mature, Amanda—” he said in return, his voice as dry as fallen leaves beneath them, “very mature.”

“Yeah, you were very mature too when you waited a _whole_ week to come to apologize me at the prison—” she shot back.

“I came at the end—”

“And I’m _still_ here, Rick—”

“You asked me about others before you sat down—” he remarked curtly, “You still wanted to make sure as if you _still_ don’t know where I stand, Amanda.”

At his words, she bowed her head again, “Sometimes I don’t feel like we’re on the same page—”

“Frankly, I thought we’re all over pages now—” he said back, and in answer her head snapped up at him as she looked at him in surprise, trying to read his word’s meaning, and Rick let her. He wasn't going to _tell_ her if she hadn’t already realized it.

And if she wanted to play it this way, they were going to play it. He stood up.

“When Caesar crossed the Rubicon marching towards Rome,” he told her, hovering above her, his eyes still fixated on hers, “he said the die is cast. He knew there was no turning back—” He paused for a second before he concluded, “We crossed the Rubicon, too, Amanda—” They had. There was no uncertainty with that. Even _she_ knew that, “So let’s go ahead.”

He offered her his hand. First she continued looking at him in silence, trying to make a decision, Rick knew, but the next second, without a word, she slowly raised her hand and held his.

Rick pulled her up at his feet and started walking toward the cabin. “Rick—” she said, turning to him, and despite everything, he _still_ heard confusion in it, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m taking a break—” he told her simply before he opened the cabin’s door and walked into the cabin, her hand still firmly in his.

All heads inside turned toward them as they stepped inside, hand-to-hand, but ignoring the looks, Rick just walked ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yay, we're gonna take little break, they earned it :D  
> Amanda and Rick's relationship finally will start having a bit lighter effect too, as you know if you're continuously miserable in a relationship, what's the point of it...  
> Frankly, I also can't wait to make them to get to the church and find the communion wine, LOL. Perhaps, Beth finally can get drunk, and Amanda and Rick can get some...making out again...you know, things you most certainly shouldn't do in a church, ugh. Sorry. :D
> 
> But with this chapter, this part of the the *saga* is done--as they crossed the Rubicon. The die is cast originally is *Alea iacta est* in Latin, which Caesar had allegedly said, crossing the border to Rome. I think it's a perfect allegory for Rick and Amanda. I still couldn't have had them share a lot, acknowledging it was enough for now.
> 
> I think I'm gonna start the next chapter with Abraham, as he could give us a look for our beloved heroes from a newcomer's perspective, as Rick drives him insane, lol. This's gonna be fun.
> 
> Like always, tell me what you think, if you're still reading--ciaociao!


	41. Chapter 41

XLI.

“Man, we need to—” Sergeant Abraham Ford started once again, coming to the leader to the lovely group of nuts he’d found for the last, but their supposed leader, the former sheriff just cut him off again—

“Get ready if you want to come—” he said tersely, bypassing him at threshold of the cabin before he stepped out, his right hand at his holster, “We leave in an hour.”

His jaw setting, Abraham looked at the man’s back as he walked away, his fingers almost drumming at the butt of Colt Python, a gesture Abraham had seen the man idly doing since last night. The crazy motherfucker was as cocky and annoying as a Marine jarhead. Though, to say that Abraham was _merely_ annoyed would’ve been an understatement. He was more than annoyed.

Uncle Sam hadn’t raised an idiot for a sergeant, Abraham Ford knew when he’d been snubbed, stalled, and he didn’t fucking like taking orders from others, out of his chain of command. _Get ready, we leave in an hour._

Leave for where?

They didn’t even discuss what they were going to do—and since last night Abraham had been trying to do that, trying to explain. This was literally a death-life situation, but his every attempt had been stonewalled.

Last night, he’d understood. It had been a long night, and their escape from those nuts had been miraculous. He’d recognized every each of them needing a quiet moment, even him and Rosita. They hadn’t seen the worse, but they’d heard. Rosita was troubled, her usually unfazed expression shaken, Eugene—well, Eugene was like he always was—scared to death. They’d needed time too, but it was a new day.

They needed to talk now!

They’d already wasted enough time. The plan had been always to rest at Terminus for a couple of days, find supplies and reinforcements to take Eugene to D.C, if possible. That plan had to go on, time was still of the essence.

Each minute they wasted here, things were getting worse, why they couldn’t see that?

Now even the Rhees had started having cold feet. This morning before Abraham had found the sheriff, he had found the Korean man, but Glenn had told him more or less that they were going to leave when Rick was ready.

Now Rick seemed _ready_ to leave—only Abraham had no fucking idea to _where_. He didn’t have any fucking idea what his plan was. Because the man _wasn’t_ talking to him.

Abraham had even tried the small-talk angle last night when they’d been both outside for the watch, trying to get him in a little man-to-man, but he got no chance, even though the sheriff had been out all night, apart the time that he’d come back to the cabin for a break, hand-to-hand with that female officer, staying fifteen or so minutes, sitting down with his friends. The whole time his hand had kept holding hers as the female officer looked as if she was on pin and needless.

Abraham had been surprised, and from the looks they’d gathered from others, Abraham had realized he wasn’t the only one. Their friends had tried not to act, trying to play it cool. It was only the pretty blond teenage chick with a bandaged hand and the sheriff’s boy—the one with the hat gave a proper reaction, the girl smiled gently as the boy stared starkly—right in the eye.

Abraham hadn’t cared a fuck—he couldn’t care less who fucked who—seriously. He’d noticed something was going on when he’d caught the silent look exchange between them when Sheriff had decided to take those two young men among his numbers. It’d been quite obvious. Abraham had used to have that kind of silent communication with his wife—and sometimes even with Rosita now—understanding each other without words, and he’d assumed those two were having a similar thing like he and Rosita—partners with benefits. This was a harsh world alone. You needed someone, sometimes even a warm body to shelter yourself, so Abraham had understood, but he hadn’t expected that.

Sheltering each other or just fucking was good—but holding hands in public? He cared for Rosita, he liked her. She was cool, she was…even awesome, but he would’ve never walked into a crowd holding her hand. If there was a universal sign language for all relationships, holding hands in a close-knitted crowd fell directly into the category of…serious business.

He guessed they were committed, even though the officer looked as anxious as a new cadet among the battle-seasoned soldiers. Yet she was also trying to cover it up, her back straightened as Sheriff just sat down cool chatting with Glenn, his expression aloof…his hand still tightly keeping hers across his thigh—and all in frankness, Abraham still didn’t give a fuck.

He just wanted them to come to D.C.

Uncle Sam really hadn’t raised an idiot. Abraham knew damn well they’d been pretty fucked there if these people hadn’t come to rescue their friends. Abraham owed them. They were a bunch of resourceful, smart, capable survivors. Abraham had seen it with the Rhees, Sasha and Bob—

And Rick Grimes was a crazy motherfucker Abraham wanted to bring Eugene’s fat ass to D.C together with.

This rotting, sucking, waste of world needed them to do this… Perhaps it was like fate. Perhaps Fate—or sweet baby Jesus—or Flying Spaghetti Monster had brought them together to do this before they grabbed the bull by the nut sack.

Why else they would’ve ended up here—in that moment…? Not everything had to be a fat sick joke.

At the threshold, Rosita joined him, her eyes wandering around as people started… readying. They didn’t need that much to prepare. They got nothing, only a few things they’d found in the cabin, and that hunter guy had brought.

The hunter guy…another motherfucker Abraham wanted to come to D.C. with him. Seriously, he needed these guys to come with them. Even the teenagers had that vibe, the Sheriff’s boy was having it in his eyes, the girl had a pretty smile but there was that starkness in her eyes too, coming into her gaze as quick as it was lost, and her hand—Abraham hadn’t missed that. It wasn’t just a scratch. The girl couldn’t use her right hand properly, and it must hurt like a bitch, but she never complained.

The other teenager with a limp had a gentle air about him, but if you looked carefully, you could see him _watching_ everything. The same thing was with grey-haired woman who they’d found in the woods waiting for them—the woman Abraham had learned that had made the last night possible. She had the same gentle air about herself too as she watched everything carefully.

Abraham knew their kinds all too well—the ones to get shit done in the least expected ways.

All the more reasons why they had to come with them to D.C. Standing here now together—coming together from all different walks of life—there _had to_ be a reason for it.

His eyes turned to Sheriff again. He was the glue of the chain link. Like Glenn had said, if he came, the others were going to follow, Abraham knew it. Rosita found his gaze on the man, too, and shook her head. “You’re pushing too much,” she told him then, “Just give them time. They’ll come around.”

They didn’t have time! They couldn’t wait, they couldn’t dawdle, they couldn’t loiter in the woods like everything was just dandy! They had to do this. _He_ had to do this.

“We don’t have time!” he almost barked out, tying his bulging arms across his chest, Time was of the essence. “We gotta go to D.C. Each day we loiter around the woods the more, the more the chances that we’re meet up with some crazy sonofabitches rise. We can’t endanger Eugene like this.”

Rosita shook her head back at him, “The road is gon’ be perilous, too.”

“And that’s why I want them to come with us, Ros—” he shot back, turning aside, “We need to go. We’re sitting ducks here.”

“They just found each other. They need time before they embark another journey—” she said, softening her voice a little, “They lost their home, almost became food. We—we need to give them time.”

He sighed out again, “There’s no time—”

Rosita shook her head again, “You’re getting obsessive—”

He flashed at her an angry look, “I’m saving the fucking world, woman!”

Shaking her head again, Rosita left him, walking away toward Maggie, her little sister and the female police officer where they sat under a tree in a circle. Rosita joined them, siting down as Maggie welcomed her with a small smile.

Everyone seemed like working against him. Maggie and Glenn had been adamant before to go to D.C with him, especially Maggie, believing it as much as he did. Sometimes Abraham couldn’t be sure. Rosita was coming with him, but sometimes Abraham couldn’t be sure of her motives. Sometimes he just felt like she did it because there was nothing else she could do. Her group was done when they’d met, so she hadn’t had any other option but joined him.

Now, she was sitting with the other girls, and there was a lighter expression over her face. All of their faces were lighter. Maggie was smiling down at her sister gently, the tensed cop didn’t seem as nervous as last night, either; her face was as aloof as her boyfriend now.

They _all_ looked cool, and at that moment, Abraham realized he needed some back-up at his corner. Even Eugene had mentioned flittingly between sentences perhaps they should wait a bit, too.

Yeah, Abraham definitely needed some back-up at his corner, someone who would tip the balance toward him.

Automatically, his eyes found the female police officer.

To get them move on to D.C. he needed Sheriff, and to get Sheriff, Abraham needed his woman at his corner.

It was quite simple. There was one thing Abraham had accepted long ago about his own species. Most of the times, men were simple creatures. And if a woman could manage to get a man like Rick Grimes to walk into a crowd holding hands, then she could definitely manage to get him do other stuff as well. 

Shoot them blind, but they were suckers like this when they fell in love.

He needed the female cop, Amanda Shepherd.

He wondered what the woman was thinking. Had she believed it or was she having her boyfriend’s skepticism? As tensed as she was, she also looked cynical, a constant pinch across her eyebrows. During the whole time she’d stayed up for the second watch inside the cabin, her expression was the same and one could almost see the wheels turn at the back of her mind. The only time she became laid-back was when she sat down with Maggie and her sister, the pinch across her brows slowly loosening, and she even smiled faintly a couple of times.

When she did, she became another woman altogether.

Abraham had never seen someone change that much with a small, earnest smile. Her clear green-hazel eyes became lit with it, as her lips split for a fraction, so small as more than her lips, she smiled with her eyes as if she meant it.

It was beautiful, and she was beautiful, and Abraham could see why Sheriff had fallen for her. Men were suckers for a nice smile, as well.

Perfect. Just perfect.

All he needed now was to get the woman smile at Sheriff like that, telling him that _she_ thought they all needed to go to D.C.

Then, game over. Finish. Finito.

They were back at the road, to D.C, how they were supposed to.

He lingered around their tree, waiting for an opportunity to catch her alone. They would leave in an hour, but all of them were still beneath the tree, foraging. He watched them picking up fallen acorns and nuts at the ground quickly with a practiced ease, then they started going around for more. They were still around the cabin but in groups of twos.

Maggie had taken her sister with the female officer, and Sasha was with Rosita. Abraham understood they were also preparing for the road. Sheriff and his boy had gone to check the snares, Abraham heard as he wandered, the hunter and the other woman who had come to get then out of the containers had gone to look for water.

They were really a meticulous group, working like a well-greased gear. Abraham would’ve done joined them, too, if he didn’t have another plan.

They foraged between the trees and bushes around, and a half of an hour later, a small, wheezing sound started coming from inside the cabin.

Abraham turned and looked at the cabin. The baby cries were the worst, the poor thing would bring roamers. Then with the corner of his eyes, he picked up the police officer draw up from the ground, hearing the cries. She broke off her group a second later, and started going back to the cabin with hurried steps.

There it was, his long waited opportunity. Turning quickly, Abraham followed the woman.

Closer to their little safe have, he arrived before her and went inside. The grey-haired woman was with the baby. The teenager with the limp and the ten years old girl were with them, too, settling beside the low cot. The woman was having the baby across her chest, trying hush her down, to no avail. Perhaps because of the weather, or because of hunger, or because of simply boredom, the baby just went on crying.

Perhaps she’d just pooped, but the grey-haired woman looked like she would’ve known about that.

Abraham had been always great with babies. He made a jolly go-go face at the baby girl, coming closer and smiled. The baby stopped crying for a second then her little hand reaching out, she poked at his nose.

Abraham laughed in silence— “Now…now…that’s my nose—” he told the baby as she twisted the tip of it with her small fingers, laughing— “You found it, girlie.”

The female officer came in the little room at that moment, his nose twisted with the baby, and ten years old girl squeaked seeing her, “Amanda! Look! He got Judy smile!”

The female officer gave the small girl a look, “Hush down, Mika, we have to be quiet in the woods—” she warned the girl, her tone rich and clear, but it held no anger, only a placidness waiting her command to be heeded. He wondered for a second what her rank was before the world had turned upside down. She was too young to be a lieutenant, but there was a certain timber in her voice that made her sound apt to giving orders. Perhaps she’d been a sergeant too. It was hard to know without their uniforms and insignias, even though she still wore pieces of her uniforms, like Abraham. She hadn’t gone all civil look like Sheriff had done.

Walking closer, she reached out to take the baby from the grey-haired woman, “Come here, darlin’—” she whispered at the baby as the baby almost jumped at her arms, and she smiled a bit at the baby …Then it happened again, her brows loosening, she looked—different— “Annoyed, huh?”

She turned toward him, “Too much people,” she explained, “She isn’t used to it. Makes her…catty—”

Abraham nodded, “Yeah… Getting crowded’s annoying as fuck—” he said, just to start a conversation.

Turing her head aside from the baby, she tossed at him a glare, and he cleared out his throat, realizing that swear words in front of the baby was a definite no with her, “Sorry.”

In silence, she took the baby and turned around to leave the cabin.

Abraham wondered then what the real story was. She wasn’t the Mommy; he’d already gathered that. The baby was Sheriff’s, but the female officer wasn’t her mother. There were no rings on their fingers as well, even though it meant nothing. People could still have babies without tying the knot, but the baby wasn’t hers. Though, she had an air she was as protective as a lioness when it came to her cubs.

Mika, the ten years old girl listened to her word like it was one of ten-commandment, the baby cub seemed to get docile in her bosom, and her sharp eyes were constantly screening the teenagers, always at watch.

Abraham knew their kinds, a woman a man best not to get at her bad side. Abraham had also seen how she had used her gun and knife last night.

He decided to play nice. He followed her outside. She stopped in front of the cabin, taking the baby out for fresh air. “She’s like his dada, huh?” he started, stopping at the threshold again, “a bit lot to handle.”

Her eyes found his, “My girl’s smart and sweet,” and she said back in that placid tone, “She gets annoyed when her personal space get insinuated like her daddy.”

Touché.

He silently laughed at that, giving her a look back. “Are you telling me I’m annoying?”

“I’m telling you’re pushing too much, sergeant.”

“And time is of the essence, officer,” Abraham said in return like she’d told Rosita, “Eugene needs to get to D.C ASAP. We can’t wait.”

She let out a moderate sigh and slid the baby over her hip in a sleek, expert move before she turned to him fully, “Time is also relative, sergeant. Rick does what he does on his own time and his clock runs on his own convenience, unfortunately,” she said further, but this time Abraham felt an exasperation underneath in her tone, “Sometimes he takes him days to do one small thing,” as she went on, the exasperation grew in her tone, too, “The next he does something right at your face at the least expected moment—at the most…unexpected ways. I know it’s very annoying—” She shook her head, breathing out again, “But it’s the way he’s.”

“So, you say I—just dawdle with him until he makes up his mind.”

This time she shrugged, tightening her arm over the baby’s waist to support her better at her hip, “Do whatever you want—” she remarked coolly, “Frankly, I’m not even sure if I buy what you’re selling.”

His eyes narrowed at the words, even though he…sort of admired the level of her blunt frankness. “You don’t believe there’s a cure?” he asked, but she shook her head.

“No. There might be a cure, I don’t know. Perhaps that guy really could do it. Again, I don’t know. What I know is…there’s no going back from this. We’ve gone too far now to turn back, crossed the Rubicon, so to speak. I’m hating it, but that’s also a reality.”

She paused for a second, before she started again, taking a step closer to him, her eyes flashing with another glint, with another edge, “I—I spent my last two years waiting for the time everything would turn back how it was used to be—” Even her tone had another timber now, too, a fire in it, like in her eyes, a fierce fire underneath her cool exterior, and Abraham remembered the way she’d fought beside them last night, the proud lioness— “Our CO told us we should’ve held up and waited until then and we did.” Her eyes found his almost in a challenge, “I believed her words because I wanted to. But they’re all gone now, and I’m done with waiting.”

 _But they’re all gone now…_ The words hit a chord inside him, but still Abraham shook his head. It couldn’t be. Ellen, A.J, Becca… No. Abraham owed them that much. Even though they couldn’t live in it, a world without the dead. He—he had promised. He’d lived, so he had to do it. “No,” he said, collecting himself, “No, we can still go back. This isn’t the end.”

Then she did something he didn’t expect, her fire quenching, she took a step back and nodded, too.

“No. It’s not,” she agreed, and said with a small voice, running her eyes away, “I try to look at it as…a new beginning.” This time she’d almost sounded…shy, but the moment passed quickly. When she turned back to him, she was again the aloof, cool officer with a hint of brazen fire underneath.

“Whatever our decision is at the end,” she continued, clearing her throat, “We still might help you. Rick might want to go to D.C…look around a bit. We don’t know anything about beyond the city,” she reasoned matter-of-factly, “We wouldn’t mind having a bit…broader look, let’s say—” She gave him a closed lips smile, but it wasn’t like the others, didn’t turn her to another woman. It was cocky, with an edge, and Abraham found it suiting her, too, a woman with different edges having an edged smile, as well, “But his priority is always us first. He won’t leave for anywhere unless he makes sure he finds a way to keep all of us safe, secure, and fed.” Her gaze found his in blunt frankness again, “Don’t push him. You can’t force Rick Grimes to do anything unless he wants to do it. So, _don’t_ —” she repeated, her words now having a clear warning, “He’s not all bark, bark, bark, you know. He’s got the bite, too.”

Abraham nodded, remembering the way the man had grabbed the sub-machine gun, “I know.”

She nodded back, bringing the baby closer to her side, “I hope you’re right, sergeant,” then she said, “About the cure. I might not believe the world could go back, but I wouldn’t mind it turn a bit better than it is now.” She hoisted the baby girl up at her side, and bowing her head smiled at her, and the transformation happened simultaneously, her smile brightening her face, “Rick cares about his children more than anything in this world—” she commented with a lighter voice, and lifting her eyes, she looked at him pointedly, “He could do anything for them— _anything_.”

With that, she turned and started walking away to join up with Maggie and their group, taking up the baby girl closer to her chest. Maggie and her sister smiled at the female officer as she approached closer, and watching them, Abraham smiled as well.

He hadn’t been wrong. The way to Rick Grimes was passing through her, and just before she’d left, she’d revealed the key to win over the man… a promise for a better world for his family.

It sounded so simple—but again, just Abraham always knew, most of times, men were like them were simple creatures.

# # #

As she walked away from the sergeant, Amanda tried to figure out what the hell had just happened, smiling back at Beth and Maggie on an automatic response.

She’d just had a talk with a complete stranger about Rick—like she was the expert of the _subject_. The thought was absurd, she almost barked out a laugh, but there was no other way to interpret things. Amanda wasn’t stupid. She’d realized what the man was trying to do at the moment he’d tried to start a conversation. Amanda had done the exact thing many times before, approaching people to talk them into something…She knew how to play this game all too well, so she’d let the man play it, wondering what was his angle really—but at the end had found herself giving the sergeant a tip.

She had wanted it.

What she had said about Rick, she hadn’t been aware of them even herself, they’d just come out of her while she spoke, ending up admitting that she tried to look it as a new beginning.

It wasn’t a lie, either. It was a new beginning, right?

They’d crossed the Rubicon, had crossed the point of no return. They’d walked into the cabin last night hand-to-hand. Even though her stomach still had become wrapped like a barbed wire ball thinking on it, they had done it.

She’d taken his hand. The alternative had been giving it up, stopping it, and Amanda really didn’t want that.

So, it was a new beginning. She wondered what _else_ that meant, but she guessed she was going to find out. She looked down at the baby and smiled. The questions started popping in her mind, too, even though she tried to stop herself—did it mean that they were going to share a room now when they found a place? With Judith?

Or would they just go on living in separate quarters like they used to do in the prison. Things weren’t as it’d been the prison now. God, was she really ready to be roommates with Rick and Judith? She liked the baby, yes…but sharing her personal space constantly with two other human being?

The thought made her stomach tighten again as the same time she wondered if Rick would want it…Sharing his personal space with her all the time?

God, she was going on full-throttle on—thinking of sharing the same place… They’d just walked into a cabin hand-to-hand… It wasn’t like that he’d asked her hand—

She stopped herself before her thoughts started running away completely out of the hand. She—she needed to slow down. Like Rick said they were going to figure this out. She shouldn’t get panicked.

Condoms! then her mind twirled at completely another different direction.

She needed damn condoms! They would definitely have sex again—she wanted to have sex with him again—god, she _so_ wanted it, but if she got nervous again because of lacking protection, she would kick her ass!

She didn’t want to get an anxiety crisis each time Rick got closer to her, dammit! They were supposed to have fun, too, if they were in a relationship. She wanted him to have fun, unburden himself. She wanted to make him happy as much as he made her happy when he’d given her flowers.

Before she could stop herself, her thoughts spun further, and she wondered when they would get— _alone_ again. Last night, after her shift had ended inside the cabin, she’d gotten out and found him again around the tree line on his watch.

Without a word, she’d laid over across his lap, and he’d played with her hair until she fell asleep. It was so good, just lay across his lap even though they couldn’t have done anything else. But now Amanda really wanted to try it again.

God, more precisely, she really wanted to fuck him senseless—her feelings were flooding over her again—the way he’d told her let’s go ahead last night—the way he’d told her was all over the pages, even though she didn’t have any fucking idea that really meant—but she didn’t care, either. She just wanted to be with him.

Then her eyes fell on Beth again, and her bubbling emotions got dampened, looking at her hand—looking at what had happened when they’d lost themselves and got carried away. Tightening the baby girl at her side, she quelled herself down.

There was going to be time for that too, later, she told herself. Being horny, and yes, she felt damn horny at the moment, wasn’t an excuse to act like teenagers!

“Hey—” Maggie asked as Amanda stood beside them, her eyes still on Beth, “What did he want?” she shook her head towards the cabin’s entrance where she and the man had been standing.

Amanda shrugged, “He wanted to talk, I guess—” She paused for a second, “—or wanted me to talk to Rick, more likely.”

Beth smiled at him, “Of course he did!” she exclaimed out, “You’re the official girlfriend now!”

And something bugged her—something that had nothing to do with Rick, or Abraham Ford or the cure. It was about the smile, resonating something in her insides deeply wrong.

The way Beth acted—it was wrong.

Amanda couldn’t exactly explain it, her smile felt too forced, as if—as if she was pretending. The last night Amanda had felt relief to see her smiling at her sister, but in the morning, she got worried.

In the daylight, it felt like Beth was…faking.

Something Amanda would’ve done—do it much better than her, as well, keep up appearances, holding her frame, faking it until she made it, pretending nothing had happened.

That was it. Beth was pretending like there wasn’t a hole in her hand, as if she couldn’t use her right hand properly, and it’d stared worrying Amanda as deeply as seeing the teenager with that stark expression over her face.

She wanted—all in honesty, she had no idea what she wanted. She didn’t want Beth to be in misery or in cold indifference, but this was wrong, too! She did it all the time—and look how she’d turned out.

She didn’t want her sweet little friend ended up like her…especially because of her.

As if picking it up, Maggie turned to her sister too, her eyes narrowing, then her questioning gaze turned to Amanda. The older Greene almost opened her mouth, but before she did, Rick and Carl came back from the tree lines, Carl holding a string of rabbits and squirrels in his hand, prideful.

Beth turned and started walking toward them as Maggie and Amanda shared an exchange…. “Amanda—” Maggie then started. Suddenly she felt the same distress whenever Rick wanted to talk about…things, and decided to bail out again.

She raised the baby upward, “Uh—I think she pooped—” She faked a gasp, turning away quickly, “I’m gonna clean her.”

Judith hadn’t pooped but peed, lots of it, so Amanda went to the small room at the back of the cabin and started to exchange her diaper. They were run out of clean diapers so they’d shifted to the old school. Beth had found it gross earlier as Amada had started cutting a sheet they’d found around after washing it, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

It was the same way how they dealt with their own sanitary problems at the prison, they wouldn’t find sanitary pads all the time, so Beth had asked if they were going to have to wash _it_ as well, and Amanda had nodded.

Beth had then really looked alarmed, and she’d sighed…all those little things they’d taken for granted so much before the world had ended.

People had used to do this for centuries, she’d told Beth then, so they could certainly do it too, but despite her determined words, she couldn’t help but twist her head aside while she opened the diaper.

God, this part had been always her least favorite with the babies, but she guessed it was nothing unusual. Thank god, Judith was a girl. Once when she used to take care of a little baby boy, she’d opened up his diaper and free, he’d peed right at her face.

She smiled at the baby girl, leaning down to play with her tummy, her fingertips gently brushing across her skin. Judith gave her a giggling smile as Amanda started freeing her off her wet dirty diaper. “You won’t pee at my face, right, darlin’?” she asked lowly with a smile back, taking off the cloth under her, “Because you’re a pretty girl…if you pee, you pee under yourself—not at my face, huh?”

“Carl peed at my face once too—” she suddenly heard Rick’s voice behind her. Twisting aside, Amanda peeked a look over her shoulder to see him standing at the door, leaning against the frame, “I was shocked—”

She felt her cheeks reddening—reacting—and quickly turning back, she bowed her head as Rick started walking towards them, “A boy peed at my face, too,” she muttered, “I was twelve or something—”

She heard his faint laugh behind her, and small quick kiss landed on her shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist.

Her back straightened, her eyes flickered toward the door on instinct—checking out—and she heard Rick’s sigh… “Amanda—” he softly murmured in her ear.

Forcing herself to relax in his embrace, she nodded, “I—I’m sorry. I just—get nervous, that’s it.”

“I know—” he whispered, “But get used to it.”

The words brought a small laugh out of her. It was sort of funny—him _ordering_ her to get used to it…this… _them_ … “Because I’m not stopping doing this…” He kissed her shoulder again to make his point, his lips lingering over bare neck longer, teasing her.

She drew out a sigh in response, a pulse deepening inside her. She titled her head backward an inch to give him a better access— “Rick—” she roughed out, a throaty rasp falling out from her lips… “Carl—” she murmured.

God, if they got caught again making out, she would never forgive herself…

“He needs to get used to it, too—” Rick said back, though.

No. They’d caused enough damage as it was.

She pushed herself out of his embrace. She leaned down toward Judith to continue her job, “No—” she repeated out adamantly, “No PDAs until he makes his peace with the idea.” She paused, remembering what she’d told Beth before, “A part of growing up is accepting things we aren’t happy with, but I really don’t want Carl to hate me.”

She heard out another sigh behind her, “He doesn’t hate you, Amanda.”

“Well, not hating me doesn’t mean he likes me—” she shot back, “I want him to like me—like…like he liked Michonne. Like me because I’m… _me_ …” The words followed, and she didn’t know why they were coming too, “Not just because I’m fucking his dad.”

She knew she sounded catty, and instead of answering her, Rick just gave out another small laughter, wrapping his arms around her waist again, shaking his head, “Amanda—are you—are you jealous of Michonne?”

Was she?

She sure sounded like she was!

Goddammit! She made no sense—no fucking sense at all, because she couldn’t decide why she was jealous—for Rick—or for her bond with Carl? Add insult to injury, she also started feeling like a spiteful bitch again—being jealous of a dead woman—a friend for no apparent reason at all.

In silence, fuming silence, she tossed the heavy, dirty diaper at the ground and closed up the clean one with safety pins. Shaking his head, Rick let out another laugh and kissed her shoulder lightly. “Don’t worry, it’s impossible not to like you for being who you’re—” he whispered at her ear, “You’re one of a kind, babe.”

 _Babe?_ Not even baby… Had ever anyone called her babe before? If anyone had tried, she would’ve kicked them at the balls. This time instead she only craned her head aside, giving him a look. “Stop making fun of me, and get ready,” she ordered with her best cop voice, “If I pass another night inside this cabin with all this crowd, I’m gonna lose it!”

# # #

The second person that approached her for a talk before they left the cabin was Joan.

“Hey—” her friend called at her, a few steps away from the cabin after they’d returned from looking for water, “I saw you talking to that sergeant when we came back,” the former nurse continued quickly as Amanda dutifully waited to see to where she was going with it.

First Amanda had thought the other woman was going to talk about their new lessons, but apparently not. It’d been only Joan who had left with Daryl this morning as Amanda hadn’t wanted to leave Beth yet, and Carl seemed like he didn’t want to start before Beth did, as well.

Rick had made a face after he’d learned that Amanda had asked Daryl to teach them, but this he’d kept his silence, only tossing at her a side-look, as if to say “I know what you’re angling, woman.”

Amanda had pretended she didn’t notice, and funny enough Rick let it go. Amanda wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but she didn’t want to dwell on it much, either.

“Has Rick decided on something yet?” Joan asked then, and a bit surprised, Amanda looked at her friend.

It was odd to see her asking such a direct question as if something was bothering her. Joan shook her head, “I asked Daryl, but he just keeps barking at me to mind my own business.”

At that, Amanda arched an eyebrow half, her eyes turning a bit searching.

Amanda didn’t want to speculate, she hated when people got noisy, but drawing conclusions sometimes were inescapable. In the last days, Daryl and Joan had almost become…inseparable.

The look Joan gave her back had the same annoyance she’d used to feel—still felt at many levels whenever someone gave her the same inquiring look that she directed at Joan now.

Joan shook her head exasperated, just in the way Amanda would’ve done too, dismissive and annoyed, “It’s Noah,” she remarked, “He wants to know if we’d go over to D.C.?”

Her eyebrows quickly knitted in question, Amanda voiced it out, “Why?”

“His home—” Joan replied, “His home’s at Virginia, remember? They live close to D.C. If we decide to go, he wonders if we could pass by his home. He wants to go back home. He says they could help us too before we leave—” The woman stopped for a second, “I think he’s got a point. We might even find a house or something in the town.”

Getting the woman’s point, Amanda nodded slowly. Since the day Noah had woken up at Grady, he’d been talking about his home. He’d used to say they had walls, tall and reinforced, so maybe—maybe they could really stop by or…try to make it there?

Before she knew it, the thoughts found her again with the possibility. A real place—with real houses and real walls…Could they really have it? It sounded so good this time she didn’t want to…believe it. She’d been just living in _buildings_ since the beginning of the outbreak, first Grady then the prison. Houses—they were different.

Before the outbreak, Amanda used to live in a part of the city that had been close to the city center but still away from the rush of it, in a decent neighborhood with low crime stats in a small one-bedroom flat with her decent payroll. It wasn’t much but she was enjoying it a lot—the security of having a permanent roof and the knowledge and assurance that _she’d_ made it. Nothing had ever given to her freely, she’d earned it.

The reality that she’d lost it all—lost every damn thing she’d worked her ass hard brought the old bitter resentment in her again, but Amanda really didn’t want to dwell on it.

What was gone, was gone. She remembered Rick’s words. They couldn’t go back, so they had to look ahead. She cleared her throat, “I don’t know,” she said lowly, “I suppose it sounds better than Terminus, but—” She paused, another reality coming to her, “Even though Noah would vouch for us sixteen people are sixteen people. They wouldn’t let us walk in.”

Slowly, Joan nodded too, “I know. I—I just think it’s better than the alternative—” her friend said, gesturing with her head, “wandering around aimlessly”

Well, there was that, too, but Amanda shook her head. “We aren’t wandering aimlessly,” she objected firmly, “We got a purpose.” They did, didn’t they? “Find food and shelter first,” she continued, “The rest, we’ll see.”

What she’d wanted to say the rest she hoped they would all live to see, but she didn’t want to say it. Still, Joan nodded as if she had and turned to walk away as Amanda inhaled a deep breath.

All in honesty, despite her own words seconds ago, even the small chance that they might have a real bed—an _actual_ bed—not a bunk or sick bed but the real the deal was threatening her to drop on her knees. God, what she could give away for a mattress and pillows…

Then it happened again, before she could stop herself, her thoughts jumped further, and she wondered… how it would really be like living with Rick, the kids, and their friends in a real house. They’d lived together in the prison, but more or less it’d been like living in a dorm, sharing a secured place, four walls and a roof. The C Block.

But houses… She didn’t know.

She’d always hated sharing her own personal space with others, especially in the confines of her own place, but as the same time the possibility of experiencing it with Rick… It made her stomach curl up, but it wasn’t just dread. There was that fluttering inside her as well. Truthfully, the thought excited her just as much as it scared her. Perhaps—maybe—

And…here she was, getting carried away…looking a way _far_ ahead this time.

One step a time, she told herself again. She shouldn’t get herself worked up over the stuff was _not_ happening to them, anyway. They were still not out of the woods, so to speak. That was a bridge they had to cross if it ever came to that.

Before the hour ended, they were finally set up for the road again. Before they did, Amanda shot a look over her shoulder towards the little cabin in which she’d survived—lived through so much. She still didn’t know what to feel, so she just turned back and kept walking.

At the moment, it seemed like the best option, Rick’s advice echoing in her mind, _let’s go ahead._

So, they did. They traipsed in the wild, away from the main road, heeding toward the north despite the sergeant’s insistence that they should’ve returned to the road and found vehicles.

Rick opposed again, not wanting risk it even though they were a much bigger group now, and as if listening to her words, the sergeant didn’t push further, but nodded at Rick.

So, they all started walking again. Before it was the midday, Amada remembered again how much she fucking hated it.

They were divided in groups, their point taken by Rick and their six covered with Daryl, Joan next to him. The kids were with them at the middle. Mika was three steps away from her like usual, and this time, Carol took her side, close to the girl as well. Amanda had taken a step backward, leaving Mika to the woman, but keeping a close look on both of them. It was the least she could do now. They were taking turns with Judith, too—Rick was coming in the middle when it was his turn, the point then was taken by Glenn and Abraham.

Abraham and their crew were in the mid-lines behind them, Abraham standing close to the nerdish scientist guy, closer than the man’s shadow. The Latina woman was walking a few steps ahead of them in a close circle.

Beth and Maggie were a few steps ahead of her, as Beth kept up her frame, pretending there was nothing wrong.

Even Carl had picked it up. Amanda had noticed the younger teenager giving a few sides look at Beth, but he hadn’t made any comment. That was another thing Amanda didn’t know what she should do at the moment, so she kept her mouth shut, too.

Well, at least until Maggie came to her when they made a stop. They’d broken off in groups, one group off to find water, the other to forage and hunt.

Maggie, Glenn and she, together with Abraham and Rosita had gone looking for a creek as Maggie had left Beth behind with Carl. Amanda had read it as a deliberate choice but gone along.

Slowing her pace, Maggie put some distance between them and others, and turned to her, “Amanda—” the younger woman asked directly, “What’s going on? What’s wrong with Beth?”

Amanda shook her head, “Maggie—I’m not sure if this’s a good place.”

“Well, I can’t wait—” Maggie shot back, “My little sister behaves like someone else.”

Amanda let out a sigh. She wished it’d been the case, that Beth was changing, becoming something else like Amanda was. That she could understand.

What Amanda was feeling with Beth wasn’t a real change, just repressing what had almost happened to her. Ignoring things didn’t make them go away. Shockingly, Amanda had learned her lessons. She wanted the girl to move on with her life, not got stuck, but this wasn’t the way.

Only she didn’t know how to explain it to Maggie, but Maggie cut through her dilemma, “What happened to her, Amanda?” the older Greene demanded heatedly, “How her hand got hurt like that?”

Amanda swallowed, “I—I’m not sure if Beth’s ready to share it… Perhaps we should wait.”

Maggie’s eyes narrowing, Maggie stopped walking. “Well, it looks like to me you’re not ready to share it—” Following her example, Amanda halted her steps too, the others walking away from them.

“I know you, Amanda,” Maggie went on, “you’re looking at me exactly how you used to look at Rick when he made you uncomfortable with something, as if you want to be anywhere but here—” Her clear blue eyes nailing her, the younger woman pushed further, “I’m sorry but I can’t accept this. Not with my sister.” She declared before demanded again with a firmer voice, “What _happened_? Is it about what happened between you and Rick?”

Surprised, her head snapped up at Maggie. Seriously, she was really becoming this transparent now? “How—how did you know?”

“Because I know you—” Maggie repeated, letting out a sigh, “You get like this _only_ when it’s about him. What happened?” she demanded again.

Amanda let out a sigh, “We—Carl caught us around the cabin—uh—in a comprising situation.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes again. “You mean you were having sex?”

She nodded, “Yeah.” She paused, “He didn’t take it well, got into a fight with Rick. At the night, he left the cabin, too, to go to Terminus alone.”

“Rick didn’t tell Carl?” Maggie asked, her eyebrows still drawn together, and observed, “He doesn’t wear his ring.”

So, they’d noticed that, too. Amanda shook her head, “I-it just happened yesterday. We were going to tell him, but he saw us before.”

Maggie sighed out, “Why did you do it close to the cabin, why didn’t you go further?” she asked the obvious, and Amanda felt a heat of rush hit her again.

“We—we—um-did…” she said, bowing her head, “We were turning back.”

“Ah—” A small smile fell on her lips, Amanda saw it even under her head, her dark blue eyes lightening with mischief for a second, “Guess he missed the sex too, huh?” Maggie teased, Amanda shook her shoulders lightly, lifting her head again.

“So what happened?” Maggie inquired further.

“We went after him—” she said, “Beth wanted to come to, too—”

The mischievous light gone off her eyes, Maggie scowled as she cut her off, her tone getting an edge, too, “How could you let her, Amanda?” she walked closer to her, “I know you care about Beth deeply. Why did you _let_ her?”

“Because she wanted to—” Amanda answered plainly, shaking her head, “She—she needed to get out, Maggie. I told you. You can’t shelter her all the time.”

But Maggie shook her head defiantly, “And that’s what happens when you didn’t!”

“She gotta learn to protect herself—”

“Yes, but not like this!

“Then how else she learns?” Amanda asked, her tone getting a heat, too, then she took a breath to cool herself down. “I--I’m sorry, I’m so sorry it happened, Maggie—” Amanda then told the other woman, “I feel very bad. Rick and I should’ve acted more responsible, but Beth _wanted_ _to_ come. It was her decision. She wanted to help because she cares.”

“I know—I just don’t like seeing her hurt.”

“Me neither—” she said back, swallowing, “It was very hard for me.”

Maggie’s eyes found hers again, “What happened, Amanda, really?”

“There were these men. They—they tried to hurt us. Rick and I, we had to kill one of them in the woods earlier. They took Carl when he went out. We found him, tried to take him out, but they got us. T-they tried to—hurt Carl and Beth, they couldn’t go far away. I swear. Rick—Rick didn’t let them.”

Maggie stayed in silence for a few seconds before she asked again, “Her hand—her hand happened then?” Amanda nodded, “Did you—did you kill them?”

Amanda gave another small nod at her, “He did—” she confirmed, “Every each of them.”

“Good.” Maggie only said back, but Amanda sensed what was coming the next, “Beth—they didn’t, did they?” she asked as vaguely as she couldn’t make the words in the same sentence.

“No—” Amanda answered, and repeated, “Rick didn’t let them.”

This time Maggie nodded too, and repeated, “Good.”

They fell into a silence, watching the others at the bank of the small creek, trying to filter water, “What are we doing with Beth then?” Maggie asked after a little while, “She—she acts funny.”

“I know—” Amanda accepted, “I think we need to give her time. If she keeps it up, we talk to her, okay?”

“I don’t know—” Maggie answered back, her tone carrying this time her own struggle with what had happened, “I feel like we _should_ do something. Seeing her like this…” The younger woman shook her head, “It feels wrong.”

“I feel the same,” Amanda confessed too, “But I really don’t think we should push her. I already talked to her. If we push too much now, it might backfire on us. She might get worse…” She let out a subsided sigh. Almost eighteen, Beth was still a teenager, too, “She might go on a riot act or something like Carl did.”

Around her age, Amanda had had her own episodes, too, before she’d decided to enroll for the Academy.

As if thinking the same, Maggie shot at her a look, “I once tried to dye my hair pink around her age before I start college—” she commented, “Mom got a heart attack—” she smiled a bit, “She got me wash it before Dad saw it.”

Amanda smiled a bit back, too, “Luck for us she can’t find hair dye around.”

After that, they started walking again. Abraham and Rosita had already found a narrow, short creek. Abraham seemed to be good in this, Amanda thought fleetingly, possibly learned the skill in the army or at the active duty. Perhaps she could ask him to teach them, too, but something was telling her Rick would like it even less than her asking to Daryl.

“Carl and you—” Maggie asked, cutting through her musings as they continued their slow pace, “How’s it between you?”

She breathed out a little sigh, “Um, Rick keeps him civil—” she said tactfully.

“Ah—” Maggie paused at her steps, turning aside to her, “You know Beth and I are half-sisters, right?” she asked and Amanda nodded, “When Dad married Annette, at first I thought my whole world collapsed. I felt so bad—no words could explain it—” the younger woman continued gently as they picked up their pace again, even slower this time.

“I hated it—" Maggie said, and Amanda wanted to sigh deeply again, this was what she felt exactly with Carl too. He hated it, therefore he hated _her_ , too, “But I understood later,” Maggie went on, “marrying her was the best thing that happened to Dad after my mom died.”

Amanda shook her head. Beth had told her the exact thing, too, but… “I know Carl acts normally for his age, if—if I had a dad, I wouldn’t have liked to see him to get—into something after I lost my mom, too, I guess—” she said, shrugging with one shoulder, “I’m afraid he’ll never like me, and it—it scares me a bit.”

Maggie shook her head, “It’s got nothing to do with you, Amanda.”

Well, she already knew that, but it didn’t make much difference, not really, not at the end. “I know that,” she said back, “But this world doesn’t forgive mistakes, Maggie. One slip, one mistake, that’s the whole difference between us and them—” She gestured with head vaguely. It was such a thin red line they couldn’t tolerate playing across it. There was literally no going back from that.

But Maggie shook her head again, “You wanted to be together—” the older Greene said in return, “It’s not a mistake. Glenn and I used to slip away, too—”

Amanda cut her off, “And I was the one who separated your shifts for that, Maggie—” she reminded the younger woman.

She’d been the one who had berated them not noticing the dead animals at the fences earlier, the one who had made Rick to separate the wife and husband, so they could’ve focus on more. But now Amanda realized it was easier to say than done when it _wasn’t_ her. When it was you, the feelings, the needs got in the way. She’d always surmised it from the passion crimes she’d seen over the years in the force, but she’d never understood it fully before.

Maggie nodded in agreement, too, “You’re probably right, but these days were hard. You possibly made a mistake having sex so close to the cabin without telling Carl first, but I understand.” The woman tossed at her a look again as they regained their slow pace, “Either way, I’m still glad it happened. Glenn and I took a bet. He owes me a foot rub now.”

Amanda couldn’t help herself then, she sighed out. So, there had been bets too… Maggie turned to her again, “Carl’s gonna come around,” the other woman assured her, “This must be specifically hard for him, Amanda. No child should’ve lived what he lived through. Sometimes I blamed myself for that, too.” Amanda stared at her as she kept talking, “I felt like I should’ve done more or at least I should’ve—” She stopped, finally realizing Amanda was looking at her lost.

Her steps halting again, Maggie’s eyes widened, “Oh my gosh, you don’t know!” she almost exclaimed, “You don’t know what happened?!” Amanda swallowed, shaking her head in admission. Maggie exhaled deeply, “Of course, you don’t. Rick hates talking—”

“No—” she interjected, “He—he tried a few times, but I didn’t want to.”

Maggie’s eyes slit into a thin line, “Why?”

“I don’t know—” she said, shrugging again with her shoulders, “I—I don’t know—” she repeated, then suddenly found herself uttering the words, “What happened?”

Maggie gave her a careful look as keen as Rick’s, “Do you want to learn now?” she inquired.

Amanda shook her shoulders again in the same manner.

Maggie took it as affirmative, Amanda guessed, as she started retelling, “Lori was nine-month pregnant when we found the prison. It was our first week. One of the former prisoners had escaped when we cleared the wings, then sabotaged it. The man used dead animals, feeding walkers inside the gates. Then broke in too, raised the alarms. Lori, Carl and I were together, Rick and others were at the fences. We escaped inside before they could come in and took cover in the boiler room.”

She paused a second then, her voice catching low in threat, Amanda heard the shaking timber as she began putting the pieces of the puzzles inside her mind. Rick had acted so—different even in his standards in the boiler room before they’d found that little cat, and Amanda knew the reason now. He’d told her once they had been sabotaged that way with dead animals, too, but had evaded any elaboration. Again, Amanda gathered the reason.

“Lori started having seizures,” Maggie went on, “We—tried—but she got Carl with C-section. We were talking about it before with Dad and Carol, was getting prepared, but the attack caught us completely off. We couldn’t get out, walkers were everywhere, and Lori had started bleeding too.” Another hitch, another pause, and Maggie said… “S-she asked me to do it—cut her open—” Amanda swallowed, almost bringing her hand over her mouth. She knew there was some tragedy involving her death, but this…this way—her eyes started watering, “I—I did,” Maggie whispered low in her throat, gulping too, “I had to. Carl—Carl had to put her down afterwards.”

She shook her head, “I—I’m so sorry, Maggie.”

“Rick—Rick never forgave himself for what happened, I think, always blamed himself for not being there,” Maggie said further, letting a deep sigh, “Rick and Lori had their issues, but he wouldn’t have wanted it end this way.”

Of course not. She nodded, her mind twirling, a twinge tingling in her chest, her eyes hurting. They walked in silence the rest of the way and joined up Abraham and Rosita.

They filled the water quietly, using a make-shift filter Rick had already showed her before. Half of an hour later, they started walking back to the little clearing where they’d stopped.

The quiet time she had spent on doing the job, doing something had calmed the myriad of emotions whirling in her insides, got her calmer. It hurt—actually hurt her know it. She’d never known why she’d always run away from it, had always felt too much, just too much, perhaps that was the reason too. It hurt, too much, and she felt so…little, so…helpless… just again watching as people she cared getting hurt…

There must be something she could do about it— _something._

She—she was so sick of just watching it!

Coming at the little clearing, Amanda looked around, a sudden, deep desire rising in her. She wanted to see him, to be with him, hug him tightly, tell him everything was okay.

They were okay now. She hadn’t known what had caused to draw them apart. She knew it must be something between Rick and his partner, a possible affair between his wife and the man, Amanda had really read between the lines. Rick had said his partner had found and gotten his family out of the city when he’d been in coma. He’d also told her he wanted to break his jaw, make him choke on his teeth for something the man shouldn’t have done, and all the lost pieces of the puzzle completing in her mind, Amanda could see how the story played out clearly, and found herself not caring a bit.

Once her first response would’ve been to take a flight, wait it out until she could digest it all, too much drama, the very thing she always ran away from, but right now she just wanted to find him. She still couldn’t talk about it, but she wanted to see him.

And there he was, standing with Daryl and Joan, talking heatedly. They were alone, Carl wasn’t with him. Her eyes wandered around, and she spotted the younger teenager with Beth and the new two young men, showing them his sword.

There was an awed expression over the boys’ faces and a semi-prideful look over Carl’s as he stood in front of them. In a flashy move, Carl sheathed the sword at his back. The scene almost brought a small over her lips. Carl was showing off, just how a teenager around his age should do against new _threats_ , marking his own territory.

Turning away from them, she joined Rick, Daryl and Joan. Rick nodded at her a little in a way of greeting, and Amanda smiled back with closed lips. Then stopping just beside him, pressing her side against his, she took Rick’s hand. His head whipping at her, he gave at her a look at her sudden act, and she smiled further in return, her lips still closed.

The keen blue eyes narrowed further, studying her closely, trying to understand what was happening. The urge to kiss him rose in her even further, but she kept it down, instead only took a step further against his side, pressing her weight on him.

Sensing the moment, Joan and Daryl left them alone. Rick tilted his back down then, his eyes still holding hers, “Okay—” he breathed out, “what happened?”

The question didn’t surprise her. She knew she was acting so out of the character now, and he could always see right through her. In another time the knowledge would’ve annoyed her like always, being so transparent, but this time she only gestured toward the teenagers with her head, ignoring it, “I think Carl’s got a crush on Beth,” and told him back instead.

Rick followed the direction she’d pointed, and his eyes fell on them, then his brows tightened as he looked at the scene, “I thought he’d gotten over it—” he mused out slowly.

“I think it’s cute—” Amanda said, “But he’s gotta be careful. She’s almost eighteen now.”

Rick nodded, “Yeah…” He stopped, and his eyes turned down at her again, “If I give you a kiss now, would you get worked up again?”

She gave him a look back, perhaps even a bit flirtatious, “What do you think?”

His head bowed, “I think I’m gonna take the risk—” and he muttered before—

_HELP! HELP! HELP!_

The shouts echoed in the air before their lips touched.

They pulled back at the same instant, turning their heads at the direction of the shouts, then started running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, this chapter just couldn't finish, and I had to cut it in half because I hit like 18k words, even though *nothing* really happened, other than Amanda learned about Lori, and managed to get Rick's hand in public, he he.
> 
> I really quite enjoyed digging at Abraham's head as he observed the gang, mainly Amanda, even though I don't know if I managed to do justice his way of speaking, the army jargon and etc. Nevertheless, it was fun, and it was great to have Amanda to talk about Rick to others, as well. :)
> 
> Please, don't forget to leave a comment if you're enjoying the story. The reviews really motivate me update quicker.  
> Until the next time.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I can't believe I made Amanda and Rick to this point, hope you'll enjoy.  
> I think it's also safe to mark this story as Mature, as we have sex for the sake of sex :)  
> Enjoy.

**XLII.**

To their left, the shouts were coming from a sharp ridge with curt stones arched over a stream. Most of the ridgetop was lined with willows and wild bushes, the narrow dwindling water curved beneath lazily going ahead, and a man in blacks was screaming as a horde of walkers tried to climb over the cliff’s surface to reach him. Taking cover behind a boulder at the side of the ridge with others, Rick wanted to curse loudly.

Just before his day turning interesting, just before he’d finally kissed Amanda in public, this of course had had to happen. They just couldn’t have had a quiet moment to themselves, be in peace. _Something_ always had to happen.

Even listening to the screams, Rick wondered what had gotten her act suddenly so…out of character, grabbing his hand, challenging him for a kiss, lifting her head up in invitation where everyone could see it.

Amanda had never been good expressing affections in public, hell, she wasn’t even good at it in private. She never let herself unless she got snapped and carried away. Even her way of asking him to have sex had been like a discussion based on logic as she tried to explain to him why they should’ve done it, laying her case down meticulously as a well-thought plan, telling him sometimes not having sex also complicate things. There’d been times they’d gotten carried away, many, many times, following a natural rhythm like the first time they’d kissed, or the times they’d almost had sex in front of the kids, or they’d _had_ sex just a few yards away from the cabin, but it wasn’t usually Amanda’s style.

Rick was aware that she was afraid of letting go, but nevertheless, he’d liked it—liked her seeing like that—getting used to _this_. And, she had to get used to this because Rick _wasn’t_ really going to stop doing it…

No. He was far too gone for her to do that now.

He remembered how it’d felt seeing her with Judith this morning as his arms wrapped over her waist, kissing her shoulder lightly. They didn’t fuck up everything. But they had to find a common a ground between. Her words from last night was still worrying him, despite she’d taken his hand and had come back to find him again after he’d gone out to pass the night with him, laying across his lap in silence as Rick played with her hair until it was time for her to go back in the cabin for her watch.

In the morning, she’d become rattled again, not that he was surprised, of course. Her cattiness continued on the road too, then she’d gone to look for water with Maggie and the newcomers, but when she’d come back, she suddenly come and held his hand. Rick wondered again what actually had happened because he just knew _something_ had—because something _always_ did… His eyebrows furrowed further, screams in his ears, and—

Goddammit!

Those damn shouts weren’t letting him to think properly!

And, the idiot had to stop screaming before he brought all walkers in ten miles radius upon them. But even from his cover, Rick could see it was hopeless. The man just kept yelling louder and louder in hopes of help.

Help.

Well, they’d come, but Rick wasn’t sure if they had to act. He was really done with saving others, and perhaps he just had to shoot the man before he really brough a whole army of death upon them with his screams! This wasn’t helping anyone…

With an inward sigh, Rick peeked out from the corner of the curve to see better… There had to be more or less a dozen of walkers had already gathered beneath the half of bowel under the ridge, rotting hands still clawing at the sharp rocky surface, leaving blood marks over the cold grey. Their backs were against the narrow stream facing with water, so at least they were safe from that direction. The dead all sounded agitated at the promise of fresh food, crawling upon each other to get closer as the man now was on his knees at the stony ground crying out with loud sobs. Upon closer inspection, Rick saw the black jacket and white collar and sighed inwardly again. A priest. The man was a pastor.

Somehow Carl had fallen beside him where Rick stood stuck against the angle hidden, “Dad, c’mon!” his boy whispered at him heatedly, his eyes lightening with a fire, too, “We should help—”

His brows knitting further with a scowl, Rick stayed in silence, his jaw setting off. They should go help and endanger themselves for someone they didn’t even know? He’d let the young men join them, yes, but he _hadn’t_ needed to save them from walkers. He’d needed to save his own people. The other two had just come along.

This was different, but Carl was still giving him that look, and Rick wondered if he was just trying to show off again for the sake of impressing others. His eyes found Carl again, then as they shared another glance Rick remembered his boy asking him who they were. His eyes moved over at Amanda for a second as she stood behind Carl, her hand already gripping her knife drawn out as tightly as she’d grasped his hand, and the answer was clear again.

Rick pulled out his machete, and warned Carl, “You stay here—” He turned to the sergeant and Glenn as Amanda took a step closer to him, getting into the position. This time he didn’t try to stop her, “You—” He pointed at the sergeant, “Wanna help?” he asked, trying to keep the irony out of his tone, but possibly failing too.

“Anytime—” the big muscled man shot back, reaching out the knife they’d handed him, “After you.”

His eyes skipped at Daryl, “Daryl—” he said, and the hunter aimed his already raised crossbow and shot the first dead without wasting anymore time.

Rick emerged out of the corner, others following. He paused for half of a second to check Amanda was still at his side. He gladly saw her still standing at their formation where she was supposed be to without him needing her remind it, the Sergeant and Glenn were coming quickly behind, Daryl at his other side.

The dead distracted with the loud, shrills of cries above them from the pastor—not being able to realize the danger slowly, silently approaching them from back. The water provided grounds to fall back too if things turned bad as Rick quickly counted to fourteen. Fourteen—Rick always stopped and thought before they charged to the dead in two digits. It was five of them now, capable fighters, three of them having the training, cops and soldier, Daryl more or less was a ranger, and Glenn—well, Glenn was a natural.

Still, as they fought, they came closer to real danger more than once. A walker almost got the sergeant’s neck as the man killed another, Daryl shooting the threat at the back. Amanda escaped from a scratching hand clawing at her face flipping herself into crouch on quick feet, rolling herself over the ground, Glenn’s leg caught in a grip by another who had fallen down in the clash and killed by Amanda as she slipped on her knees just before the dead got a bite.

Glenn held Amanda’s upper arm as she drew herself up, Rick coming closer. The dead around them were finally down. He touched at her face where the walker had tried to catch her, cupping the side of her neck, “You okay?” he asked, words low and heavy in his throat, his heart skipping a beat.

Amanda nodded, and Rick breathed out. “Yeah.” She gave him a small, shy smile, and Rick almost took a step further, the sudden, blind desire in him to take in his embrace was strong, make sure she was safe…with him.

As they shared another glance, they heard he chanted sobbing words above them at the ridge top, tears in it, “Thank you, Lord—Thank you, Lord—” They lifted their up at the same, looking at the source.

The pastor was still on his knees, his head bowed, his hand also placed in front of him at the ground, only same thing coming out of his lips, “Thank you, Lord—Thank you, Lord—Thank you—"

Rick shook his head, a sigh contained in him, but it was Daryl who cut off roughly the chanting, “It wasn’t God—” Daryl grunted out, his tone gruff but plain, “It was us.”

The pastor raised his head and looked at them. The man was still openly terrorized, and Rick saw real tears inside his dark the moist eyes, but beyond that, the Afro-American man’s expression was plain, candid, almost…guileless, “I prayed for the help and God sent you, Good Samaritans—” he intoned with a shaky voice, “You who showed mercy, you all are my neighbors.”

Rick faintly recalled the story from his childhood. The wounded man at the side of the road and the Samaritan, who had stopped to help the man with compassion, but shaking his head, he asked, his eyes on the pastor’s jacket. It was clean, far clean for a man who was lost in the woods, just like Rick had seen Amada first in the woods. He’d possibly tried to come to stream for water, but the priest wasn’t a lost soul, Rick knew it. “You got a home then?” so he challenged, taking a step further toward the ridge.

The man raised a hand, making a sweep as the wavering tone in his voice calmed down a bit, “We all do live under God’s roof—”

Next to him, Amanda clinked her tongue, “He was asking a more _specific_ roof,” she said back, eyeing the pastor’s clean clothes as the way he’d done. Rick realized she was drawing the same conclusion too, “We’re peaceful people,” she went on, “We do no harm—” She paused for a second, staring at the man openly before she added, “Unless you try to harm us.”

In response, the pastor merely bowed his head again, and intoned the same, “May no harm come to those who live under God’s roof.”

This time sighing out, Rick signaled at the man to come closer as he walked beneath the cliff edge. Upon seeing him, Daryl did the same at his other side, too. Reaching out, they took the man down. Pushing him back against the rocky surface, Rick started checking his clothes, his hands patting the black pastor shirt and trousers to look for any weapon, gun, or knife— “I have no weapons of any kind—” the pastor suddenly supplied in, his dark eyes finding his, “The Lord abhors all violence.”

For a second or so, Rick really thought of leaving the man, the last thing they needed was a religious zealot who had thought to come into the woods without a protection as a good idea, who thought violence shouldn’t have saved their skin in the world they now lived in, but then again what kind of neighbors they would’ve been if they did.

 _Smart ones_ , the part of him that wasn’t the Good Samaritan answered quickly as he kept searching the man. Rick hushed down that thought too. Drawing back up from the man instead, he asked, “How many walkers have you killed?”

Amanda gave out a small smile, bowing her head hearing the question as Carl looked at him approvingly, but the next second the pastor replied evenly, “Not any, actually.”

Their heads all snapped up at him as Rick’s jaw set even further with a grimace. He almost heaved out a deep sigh, shaking his head, he’d just known it—he just did… “Turn around—" he ordered, holding him at the upper arm as the father obeyed, “How many people have you killed?” Rick questioned.

“None—” the stiff answer came as his wavering tone evened further.

He was clean, just like he’d claimed to be, but Rick had lived long enough to learn appearances could be deceiving. “Why?” he followed his protocol, taking a step back from the man.

“Because the Lord abhors violence—” the pastor intoned again, this time giving a meek smile as if to break ice.

Rick didn’t buy it. “What have you done?” he challenged as the holy man looked at him confused, “We've all done something.”

The man’s smile vanished off too, “I'm a sinner,” he told him plainly, “I sin almost every day. But those sins, I confess them to God, not strangers.”

Rick gave out a humorless little laugh at that, derisive. “Well, I guess you’re not as hopeless as you sound, Father—”

“I’m a man of faith, not an idiot,” the father said back, the man’s black eyes finding his again, “I know people are just as dangerous as the dead nowadays.”

Rick shook his head in objection, looking at the man back, “No, people are worse.”

# # #

“Uh, wet socks—” Sasha challenged in a heated whisper ahead of them, turning aside to Bob as they traipsed in the woods towards the pastor’s church, and over the little distance between them Amanda could hear a victorious glint in Sasha’s tone as if she thought her boyfriend couldn’t beat that, but the medic gave her a quick look that clearly said, seriously.

“Cold feet—” the answer came after then quickly.

Amanda shook her head in silence, their line drawn up, Mika three steps away from her like usual as Beth and Maggie took either side of her, Carol beside the little girl. They’d been walking to God’s Roof for an hour after they’d left the stream, the father telling that this was the first time he’d ever come to look for water since the beginning of the outbreak.

Amanda hadn’t been surprised to hear that, nor that she was surprised to learn the man had living inside his church since then, living on the canned foods from the church’s stores for the homeless, only going out for waters.

She’d also found it odd, she would’ve expected people would’ve come to the church for shelter or prayer at the face of such catastrophic event, the Armageddon, but perhaps they’d just lost them—or the holy man had just lied to them.

In these days, both were decent conclusions. Possibly why Rick was walking at the head of the line with the father, holding his arm tightly, making sure the man behaved.

“Mosquito bites—” Sasha challenged again as Amanda turned her eyes from them to her companions in the middle of line, her eyes momentarily halting at Carl as he walked ahead of Carol, too, just behind the new young boys, holding her sleeping sister across his shoulder. When Judith had fallen asleep, Carl had come to take her from Amanda, giving her a pause. Judith was getting heavy; a fact Amanda had welcomed with a light heart.

Bob was in silence as well, concentrating on it, his bowed head, then pointing a finger, turning to Sasha again, he remarked proudly, “Itching reminds you you're alive.”

Well, in that case they were _very_ alive. With air cooling, racing to fall quickly, the mosquitoes had started dwindling, but they still ate them during nights. All these little joys of…being alive.

“The hot sun beating down on you—” Sasha continued, craning her neck up to the said pale sun, still hot on them, and Bob gave her a look again as if it was so obvious, “Come on, a glorious tan.”

With that, Amanda laughed silently too as Sasha rolled her eyes at her boyfriend in an exasperated manner. Beside her, Maggie turned toward her, “Bob got us to play too before we got to Terminus. A little game—” she said, glancing at Beth, “Good out of the bad.”

Beth didn’t react at her words, as Amanda knew they’d been spoken at her in reality, the teenager kept walking. Amanda had to admit she was getting very good at this, holding up her frame.

She wondered then if she could write this as one good out of the bad?

Good out of the bad, Amanda reflected on as she kept walking too. That was the thing she’d tried to do as well, choosing to see beauty instead of the ugliness, so she wondered if she’d sounded this much cheesy herself when she’d talked about it to Beth.

She hoped she hadn’t. Even though, it was cute, Bob had been acting like they were living over the end of the rainbow, in the lands of milk and honey. But seriously how Bob and Sasha could get like this, treat themselves in this ease in what…a week? She could understand Glenn and Maggie, they’d been together more than a year, certainly had their own ups and downs, but—

Or _perhaps_ everyone was just naturally good at this where Rick and she just fucked up on daily basis. She stopped the thought before she could go further. She wasn’t going to think like this anymore.

She was going to—frankly, she didn’t know what she was going to do. She’d wanted to do something after her talk with Maggie, and grabbed his hand on sudden irresistible urge, in one of those rare times she let herself roll on with the tides. Then they’d heard the shouts just before they’d kissed, their flow once again broken before they succumbed into the moment.

 _Stay in the moment_ —the words had been all over the walls at the yoga studio she’d used to frequent for her aerial yoga classes, and their guru had used to preach on it to Amanda’s semi-deaf ears.

All in frankness, Amanda had never been in the spiritual aspect of it, she just liked the sense of defying gravity, getting lost in the action as she did in her daily morning runs, running as fast as she could as the city woke up. She’d always thought action was the key, having sex, rushing wildly her to release had the same effect too, but then again, they had problems _there_ , as well.

Her eyes flickering, she found Rick at the head of the line again. Was there some good out of this too? she questioned herself. Well, sex hadn’t been bad, she’d come too—very…intensely. That was it, too, intense. Good, but so intense. She really didn’t want it to be—didn’t want to turn into a ball of wrecking, rattled nerves. Her eyes found the couples again, Glenn was walking at the other side of Maggie, too, their shoulders brushing, and Sasha was with Bob—why the hell she wasn’t with Rick?

The urge came to her strong again, she’d wanted to make sure her people stayed close to her—she needed to protect them, she was still a cop, but—they would chat a bit… Suddenly, making up again her mind, she turned aside and muttered to Maggie, “I’ll be back. Be careful—” and started marching toward the head of the line.

Upon catching her approaching to him, he gave her a look, twisting aside from the man, and his eyes holding the same inquiry—possibly making him alert, “Hey—” he told her as she stopped at his right empty side.

Amanda gave him a small back, “Hey—”

His left hand dropped the father’s arm and he mentioned at the man, “Keep walking—” He turned to her again then as the man took a few steps, “What’s up?” he questioned, “Something is wrong at the back there?”

She shook her head, “No. Everything’s fine—” His eyes grew keener, more alert, more suspicious, and she knew he was studying her again carefully to understand what the hell was happening as she knew she was still acting so out of her character.

She shook her head again, “I—just wanted to come to find you—” she told him, and she reached out to touch his hand, looking at him back too, “Do you I need a reason?”

He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “No, you don’t—” She smiled wider, scooting closer at his side. Her eyes fell on the man walking ahead. “Do you think he’s hiding something?”

Rick shrugged, “Possibly.”

She flitted at him a look, “Was he really alone all this time?” Somehow, she still found it hard to believe, but Rick nodded.

“He told so—” he said back, “He mentioned a food bank at the town too, the place where his food had come from, too. He said the place got overrun by walkers, but I think we can check out. If it’s swarmed with rotters, then we can still find food.”

After clearing it out, of course, but she didn’t feel the need to say that part aloud. Instead, she nodded, thinking on it further. “We should check other houses too. We don’t need only food,” she said, waving a hand over herself, “We need clothes, stuff, things—” Condoms, she completed inwardly, remembering what she had thought before. She needed condoms. Their whole deal had started first when she’d gotten nervous with the lack of condoms, so perhaps if she found something around, things might be different. It was a thought, but she wanted to give it a try.

Rick nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah—” He paused for a second, “Abraham wants to find a vehicle, too,” he went on, “I think it’s time too.”

Amanda nodded. She wondered then if it was the time to open up to him Noah’s request. She still couldn’t have talked to him what Joan had said, but she felt she needed. She owed the young man. It was Noah’s plan who had saved their skin at Grady when Amanda had fucked up so tremendously. She wasn’t sure of it, but she felt she had to do it.

Turning to Rick, Amanda opened her mouth, but turning to her at the same time, Rick looked at her down, and suddenly asked, “Uh-just a clarification—” he started, “Amanda—nothing happened, right?”

She looked at him confused, “What?”

“I—um-you holding my hand, coming to my side…” he said back, staggering at the words—then his eyes suddenly grew heated, a fire burning them, and turning aside, he caught the side of her neck, “You—it didn’t—did it?”

Then she realized. He thought she’d gotten bitten, just because she’d wanted to be closer to him. For a moment or so, Amanda couldn’t decide she would laugh or cry, but at the end amusement won, and she started laughing, “Geez, Rick. Nothing _happened_. Chill down—” She shook her head, shooing away his hand off her, “Ugh, I held your hand, and what? You thought I’m dying?”

He dropped his arm at his side, his eyes holding hers, “You're acting a bit weird—”

This time, she sighed out. “I know—" She shrugged off, “I’m—trying something new.”

His eyes twinkled with something, and she found herself staring at him, smiling… He looked so much younger when he truly smiled… “How’s it going?” he asked, his tone having a…flirtatious vibe, too.

She tried to keep face neutral, as her stomach fluttered again, instead gave off a half shrug, “So far, so good.”

He laughed silently, a deep rumble in his chest, and Amanda liked the sound of it—so liked the sound of it, “So far, so good—” he repeated lowly and slanted a look at her, “We’re gonna have to pair up to check the houses in the town—” he told her then, “Come with me. I’ve missed being your partner.” He paused, “The real deal.”

She breathed out deeply, danger bells ringing loud and clear in her mind—but the truth was that—she’d missed it, too, their daily morning patrols, walking around the clock at the fences together each morning— “I—I’ve missed our morning rounds, too—”

“Maybe we do it again—” Rick said.

She nodded, and losing her inner battle, a smile enlarged her lips, “Maybe—”

Rick reflected it at her again, looking so young, so handsome, “Maybe.”

Just as the moment, they suddenly stepped out of the tree lines, and there it was, the white country church, with wooden porch and siding, standing lonely in the gentle groove.

To her sore eyes, it was one of the sweetest things she’d seen in days. “Not a cathedral—” Rick murmured beside him, and she shot at him a look.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Rick—”

The good out of bad. She ran her eyes quicker over the structure, trying to spot something good. Well, it looked—clean.

Rick stepped out and walking quickly, he grabbed the pastor’s arm again as they all started walking to the church. There was a white staircase leading to the heavy oak doors, and the pastor took out his keys, opening the door, just before Rick put a hand on him, “Hold on—” he told the pastor, halting him, “Mind if we check it first?” he asked, pushing him away from the door as the same time.

The man’s eyes found him again, “I told you I live alone—” the pastor said back.

Rick brushed it off, taking the key, and gestured with his head at them. The gesture was vague, he hadn’t pointed out specifically but, Glenn and Daryl walked out quickly, Abraham following. Amanda had already taken his side.

She gave him a look, something bristling in her insides, something new…something different… Perhaps—perhaps they could really do this. Like Glenn and Maggie— Rick opened the door, and drawing out their guns, they slipped in. The guns were almost out of the bullets now, but for intimidation holding a gun mostly was enough. Besides, Amanda only half expected to find some old people had taken shelter inside. The pastor had a different aura, but he wasn’t making her tingle—rattle her cage so to speak. Amanda had grown accustomed to the sensation, the hair on your back standing up, your guts twisting.

The scene, the high ceiling, colored windows, the burning candles, the atmosphere rushed at her, Terminus’s chapel trying to get inside her barriers, but she didn’t let it. That thing belonged to another life now… She was having something new now, a new beginning.

‘Cleans’ started echoed around as they swept the grounds. Together with Rick, they closed in on the door behind the pulpit. “It’s the management office—” the pastor explained, coming behind them, “I prepare communion there, run the church.”

Rick nodded offhandedly, holding the door’s handle. He gestured at her again, and like true partners, she took the place at his front, covering his blind spot as he reached out and opened the door.

Standing at the threshold, they swept the room with quick eyes. Empty. Rick walked in, checking the room further. It was a cluttered room, there was a coach beside the door, and ceremonial robe and red stole with silk fringes. There was a mahogany desk in the middle of the room, papers and notebooks, and pens scatters all around, and behind it, there was a tall library against wall, every shelf holding a religious text or Bible, except the highest one. There set a couple of old, dusty bottles.

Checking their looks, the pastor remarked behind them at the door, “Communion wine—” he said, “I keep the bottles here.”

Slitting a look over his shoulder at the man, Rick nodded, as Amanda looked at the stacks. Perhaps, they could have a real celebration, a true party, with wine and all. Beth would’ve liked it. She’d managed at Grady she wanted to get drunk—so maybe that would get her spirit back a bit.

Yeah, they all needed that. A true downtime, together.

Walking to the closer to the desk, Rick flittered his fingers quickly among the papers, Amanda recognized the religious text—then turning around suddenly, he walked back to the door and shut it close, leaving the pastor outside.

He turned back to her and started advancing on her. Amanda took a step back, resting her hips against the desk’s edge, holding it tightly. Stopping between her legs, he put his hands either side of her at the table and leaned forward over her.

“Wanna try something else new?” he asked her then, his eyes captivated hers.

“Like what?”

“Like a kiss?” he asked back, bowing his head at her further, but he didn’t make a further move, “I want _you_ to kiss me.”

She smiled a bit roughish, “Would you freak out again if I did?”

“So far, so good.”

She silently laughed, raised her head upward and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

# # #

Leaving the church after the sweep, Rick ran down from the stairs in good spirit.

Today was being a good day, and Rick was quiet in the good mood. His hand inched at his holster, and he drummed his fingers against the butt of his Colt Python, but not in a nervous, unconscious gesture. There was an instant urge in him to whistle too while doing it, an urge he barely kept inside him.

It was crazy, almost silly—the way she’d acted, the way he’d responded, the way he’d gotten her to kiss _him_ , the first time ever, but at the moment Rick just didn’t care. He still knew something had happened with her. Amanda wasn’t one to act completely different one-hundred-eighty degrees without a _reason_. The thought had found him them, his deepest scare, blocking out everything else, and he--his guts had just reacted, the fear of losing her… He pushed the thought away again. She was just where belonged, standing at his side.

His side, always.

A run, doing it together was going to be good for them. They didn’t always screw up things. What she’d said last night was still bugging him, they had done other things, too. She had to see that. They’d been good partners in the prison, he wanted that again. If he could’ve, he would’ve given her a lot of things, too, her old life back, the prison, the security, their daily routines, just as he wanted to give Carl and Judith, but for now, he could only do this. So far, so good, he told himself.

Outside he saw the sergeant and half waited the man to come to his side to try a talk again, but he didn’t, just kept preparing a backpack. Rick wondered what his deal was now—why the army man suddenly decided to take his time but regardless, Rick felt glad. He couldn’t deal with that now. They’d also seen a bus at the backyard, broken down but Abraham Ford had declared quickly he would get it running again as the pastor declared they could’ve taken it if they did, in exchange of saving his life.

To Rick, it didn’t sound like a good deal, but like Amanda had said, beggars couldn’t be choosers. In any case, his first priority had been finding a place secure and with enough food first. He still hadn’t made up his mind, and he wasn’t going to do it with an empty stomach.

From the other side of the church, he saw Carl approaching to him with Beth.

Amanda’s other words came to him, and he wondered if he was going to need to make a talk to Carl about that, too. Carl was almost fifteen, but Beth was almost eighteen. Carl was at the right age to experience his first love—even late honestly—the first time Rick had fallen in love he must’ve been twelve or something. Beth was almost a grown up now, whereas Carl was just becoming a teenager. He would’ve liked his son to experience his first experience with romance with someone else more around his age, but it was the base of the problem as there was no one around his age. _Literally no one._

Carl had been having this crush on her since the time they’d met, but Carl wasn’t the same boy he’d been then, but now Rick had started getting worried. Amanda had possibly thought the same too, hence her warning.

“Dad—” his boy called out at him, and Rick pushed that thought away, too. They were going to cross that bridge when they came to it, “Dad—” his boy waved a hand too, “C’here, you need to see this.”

Rick almost arched an eyebrow at the word but followed his son.

Nothing ever good had come out after Rick had heard those _words_ , the things he needed to see. This time it was at the backside of the church, at the wooden sidings, a carved script with the tip of a blade. Carl pointed at it, “We found it looking around.”

Rick gave the teenagers a look and turned back to the script.

 _You’ll burn for this,_ he read the engraved words. We've all done something, he remembered his words to the man, and it seemed like he hadn’t been wrong this time, either. He wished he had. “Well, I thought something was off with him,” he said a couple of seconds later, “I don’t think he’s hostile,” he continued, “but it’s better to keep him on a close watch.”

Carl nodded, “We watch him closely when you go to the run.”

Rick shook his head, “No—” he said back, “He’s coming with us.” Carl’s face closed off, so Rick explained further, “We need someone who knows whereabouts of the town. We’re gonna check the houses too before we go to the food bank.”

“Can I come too?” Carl asked again. Rick had already told him no once, but his son was resilient. A part of him liked it, the other part—was getting weary.

“No—” Rick refused again, “I want you with Judy, son.” He paused, and decided to use Beth’s angle a bit, too, “Besides, Beth can’t come, either. So, you gotta keep her company.”

Beside him, Beth nodded pointedly, turning to him, “Yeah,” she said, “You _can’t_ go to a run when I have to stay back.” Because of you, the words weren’t uttered, but nevertheless, they were understood.

Bowing his head, Carl nodded, “Okay.”

They all turned at the front side and found Amanda and Glenn coming outside with the pastor. The man gave him a look, visibly shaking, “Do I—do I really need to come with you?”

“No, you don’t—” he answered honestly. All in frankness, they didn’t need the pastor, not really. They could find their way around the town, this wasn’t their first tango, but— “but you’re still coming.”

The pastor bowed his head, muttering something under his breath, and it was pretty much annoying. Ignoring the man, he turned to Amanda... and stared… Of course, leave it to her to get herself clean up as first thing at the first sight of the civilization. Rick almost let out a laughter, the urge to pull her and kiss her strong again as she stared at him back.

She’d washed her face, had combed her hair. Her hair was still loose, gently brushing across her shoulders and Rick felt glad of seeing her still without a bun. The dirty stains over her cheeks was gone, her hair was still matte and caked, but at least it was out of her tangles now. Her expression was cool too, not the coy woman who had given him a quick kiss, shyly flirting with him an hour ago.

Back to cop business, they were. “You ready?” he asked, eyeing her closer.

She nodded back, “Yeah. Let’s do it—” she said, her eyes wandering around, “Where’re the others?”

They’d prepared four different groups in twos, to cover as many houses as they could in a single hour before they met up at the food bank. Another hour spent there, then they’d turn back before the sun set down. He wanted this done today, but as quick as possible before the darkness fell in.

The pastor had said it would take two hours to get to the town on feet. If they managed to find a running vehicle they could still manage to turn back way before the sunset.

That was the plan, at least.

They made the teams in their usual, Rick taking his _girlfriend_ like they’d discussed. The buzz was still with him, the itch to whistle in good humor, even though he knew it was stupid, and probably dangerous, but doing this—having this ease with her, more than anything Rick felt like he was going on a date than a supply run.

Daryl and Joan were teamed up again like the last days, and Rick made himself a note to ask the hunter what was going on between them. He’d never seen Daryl spent that much time with anyone, even with Carol. And, Daryl had _accepted_ to teach them how to hunt and track once Beth’s hand completely healed, so there really must be going on something.

The sergeant and his Latina companion, Rosita, was the third group, as Sasha and Bob were the last one. Maggie had wanted to stay with her sister, so Glenn had opted to stay out of this one. Rick wasn’t sure if the medic was ready for another one. He’d heard his last run to Big Spot had become an inch away from a total disaster, again like Amanda had said, beggars couldn’t be chooser. This was what he had—so he had to work with it. Besides, like again what she’d said before experience was the best teacher and how else they could learn if they didn’t do it?

The pastor was coming with them as of the moment, but Rick didn’t want a third wheel in their date. He had a mind to leave the man with Daryl once they started covering the houses before they rendezvoused at the food bank.

As they walked on the road toward the town, their soles of the shoes munching concrete again, he slowed his pace, leaving the man with Amanda at the head of their line and fell beside Daryl. “Hey—” Rick called, “You take the pastor while checking the houses?” he asked to the man, with another he would've felt a slight awkwardness asking such a request, but Daryl was his brother, the one who had realized it first—that she was different, “I need to talk to Amanda.”

His brother gave out a grumble out of his chest, sounding annoyed, and Rick read it as affirmative, and quickened his pace again, tossing the man a quick smirk as he did.

Amanda gave him a look as he came beside them again, “What did you ask?” she questioned, darting a look at him, getting closer.

Rick held her hand, walking, shrugged, “Nothing.” She didn’t pull her hand back, Rick turned his head to her, “Carl isn’t around—” Rick commented lightly in a low voice, and inquired waggling an eyebrow at her, “Wanna give me another kiss?”

He just wanted to see—her new boundaries—how much she was…willing to try her new thing. In answer though, she rolled her eyes, shooting a “Don’t push it, Rick.”

He let out a moderate laugh, mouthing a silent chicken, then whipping around, she raised on her tiptoes and pressed her lips again on his quickly before she pulled back a second later, “Don’t die from shock.”

In silence, with another laugh, he pulled her closer at his side.

They’d crossed paths with the dead a couple of times, each time the sergeant getting to them joyfully with the long iron bolt he’d found from the church. Rick certainly didn’t mind it. He wasn’t looking for any killing today, if he could help it. Today was the day, their day.

His injured leg had started wobbling with all the walking he’d done during one day, but he kept it down too, holding back the pain. Even that throbbing at his outer thigh would've dampened his good mood. His hand went to his left hip craftily, to relive the pressure in secret, but still, with hawkish eyes that watched everything, Amanda caught it immediately.

“You okay?” she asked in a whisper, her eyes giving him a studious look, trying to see if he was limping.

Rick wasn’t. He gave a half nod, their hands still tangled, “Yeah—just aches a bit.”

She shook her head, “Perhaps we just should wait a day—” she said, her brows drawn together, sliding at him a side look, “You tire yourself too much.” She paused, “Do you want us to go back?” she asked quickly, tossing a glance at backward as if to calculate the way back.

He gave him a half smile, too, he liked her seeing like this…fretting over him… Somehow, it suited her, very. “Can’t go back, Amanda—” he shot back jokingly, and she rolled her eyes at him, then narrowed them at her, “Did you—did you eat mushrooms or something in the woods?” she asked.

He shook his head, “Why, Amanda, I just flirted with you a bit, and you thought what? I’m high?” Beside him, she burst out into laughter suddenly and drew her hand from him quickly to cover her mouth.

She shook her head, muffling her laughter, “This’s ridiculous—” she mumbled behind her fingers, her eyes checking out the others.

Rick shrugged off, “I’m just trying…something new.”

Her laughter dying, she dropped her hand, giving him sober look, and asked back, “How’s it going?”

“So far, so good.”

She darted her eyes around again, “We shall find a wood and knock—” she said back, her eyes turning to him, “We’re gonna jinx ourselves.”

He took her hand again, shaking his head, “No, we won’t.”

He stayed in silence then, as he really didn’t want to jinx their luck, and they arrived in the town an hour and half later. They separated in the town’s center, going on different directions, he and Amanda taking the north, alone, the pastor going with Daryl and Joan toward south.

The town was a small one, the usual countryside towns of the south, the houses almost identical, the usual two-stories white sidings buildings with porches and lawns. The greens had already dried off, the flowers withered. The streets were flittered with dry, fallen leaves from the long trees lined each sides of the roads. Beneath the leaves, they were also covered with dust and stains of old, dried blood. The porches were covered with dust, too, swings or already rusting off, wooden rolling chairs rotted, the talismans were swinging back and forth idly in the wind.

Overall, the town exactly looked like how a ghost town would look like at the end of the world. _This’s the real life_ , his words to Amanda from last night came back to him, suddenly dampening his good feelings, the urge to whistle in him dying.

How they could even believe there would be going back from this?

As if sensing his mood change, Amanda turned to him, “Rick--?” she asked with a low voice, “Ya okay?”

He nodded, and looked down at her, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

He pulled his right hand from her, drew his Colt Python as Amanda did the same. They approached at the first house at their direction warily, this time dust at the porch telling him a good story. Untouched dust was good. It meant the possibility of intact, unraided house. Amanda’s eyes caught it too, and without a word, they started doing the gig.

With his left hand, he knocked the door loudly, calling out any undead in the house as Amanda took the spot at the opposite side of the door again to cover his blind spot, drawing out her Glock. They waited a couple of minutes more, listening to inside to hear anything, then Rick turned the door’s handle. It didn’t open. He tried again, but it stayed the same way.

“It’s closed—” Amanda whispered, and with a sigh, Rick pushed back. Perhaps he’d really jinxed them.

“A’right—” he drawled out, “we do it old school then—” he said, and took another step back, then lifting his right leg, he kicked the door open.

After a couple of kick at the frame and the lock’s empty side, making tremendously loud noises that was bringing a few walkers toward them, the door opened. Amanda drew out her knife then, opting to stay silent, and stabbed the dead in the head coming the porch before they slipped in. Inside, they quickly pushed the tall stand at the hall over the door and secured the entrance with it. Rick bolted the door inside too, feeling grateful that it wasn’t lock from inside that way.

It also would explain the silence of the home. The residents must’ve left the house earlier, locking the house for their return but had never managed to come back.

Walking down the hall, he saw scattered furniture and backpacks and luggage with lids open. The scene suggested hurry as Rick guessed they’d had to leave quickly, the town getting overrun. He gestured at Amanda when he became sure behind the entrance more dead wasn’t grouping, so they started checking the whole house to find it completely clear in the next ten minutes.

Okay, perhaps, today was still his day. Coming back to the hall, Rick nodded. “Okay,” he drawled out again, “Let’s start unpacking those—” He waved a hand around and pointed at the backpacks, “we cloud use them.”

The luggage were hard to carry, so Rick wanted the backpacks. Nodding at him back, Amanda spotted a jacket left behind, and giving a sprint, she rushed to it.

Rick smiled at her. She took off his suede oversized jacket, she was still wearing, and put on the new one. “Look at this—” she almost cried out, “it’s my size too—” It was a black well-fitting leather biker jacket, and it really looked good on her. Walking to her, Rick took his jacket back from her, but instead of putting it on, he hung it up at the staircase railings.

The air inside was stall with unused, and the general death smell of their world, but it wasn’t smelling that bad. But humidity was heavy, so Amanda took the leather jacket as well, staying with her tee shirt.

“Alright, let’s check out the kitchen first—” Rick said, but shaking her head, Amanda knelt down over the luggage and started rummaging through them.

“Nope—” she said, lifting her eyes up from the floor, “We’re going to food bank anyway. I _want_ clothes.”

He snorted faintly, walking to her, “Women—” and muttered under his breath.

Lifting her head up at him fully this time, she threw at him a dark brown, tee shirt. Rick caught it in the air. “This color is very ugly—” he commented.

Bowing her head, Amanda sing-songed, “It’s clean…” Rick laughed, it might be the first time he’d ever heard her make such a sound. She then raised her head, “Do-do you think the water still runs?” she asked, looking at him hopefully, “I’m dying for a bath.”

And Rick would kill for a bath _with_ her. He walked to the kitchen at their left as Amanda, standing up, followed him. He turned on the faucet, but no water came.

Rick turned it off, and looked at her, “Sorry.”

She shrugged with a sigh, “Well, it was worth a try.” She wandered her eyes around then turned back to him, “Um,” she breathed out, “You check the kitchen if you want, and I check the rooms—” she offered then, “I want to find something for Beth and Carl, too.”

Rick arched an eyebrow. She shrugged, “I know Michonne used to bring him comic books—” she said, bowing her head, “And Beth likes bracelets.”

Smiling at her, Rick nodded, “Carl likes fantasy books too—” he offered, “and Beth is good for anything with beads.”

She smiled back too, turning to the staircase, “Got it.”

Rick watched her as she climbed it, deliberating inwardly if there was an extra swing at her hips as she took the steps, or he was just imagining it. He spent another fifteen minutes around the first floor, throwing everything edible, or helpful inside the bags, then stopped finishing it.

He walked out of the living room, leaving off their treasures at the first step of the staircase, craning his neck up to catch a sound.

Amanda usually had very light feet, barely making a noise. Rick had noticed how she slipped in and out around the places while they’d been at the prison, making her so much harder to catch when she wanted to disappear.

This time she didn’t want to disappear, Rick could faintly hear the noises inside from one of the rooms as he came to the upstairs. He walked in the room, understanding it was the master bedroom. But Amanda wasn’t inside. His brows tightened, feeling the familiar panic, he rushed further inside the room, then saw the bathroom at the end of the corner, the door cracked open.

His heartbeat slowing down, Rick walked to it. At the threshold, he stopped, seeing her _only_ wearing an unbuttoned white linen shirt over her underwear, a clean new set, a white lace bra and knickers instead of her basic sports bra, the hems of the linen shirt barely licking her hips. Her dirty clothes were disposed in bundle beside the door, and she was rummaging through the drawers at the vanity stand inside the bathroom with one hand as her other hand held a bright blue package.

It seemed she’d found herself clothes.

He cracked the door further open, letting her know he was here. Jumping on her feet, Amanda drew back, hearing the crack, and spinning on her heels, Rick saw her face growing alert as if she was caught, then her hand tightened around the package, she slipped it behind her back.

Rick narrowed his eyes. She gave him a weak smile, “Uh—hey—” she blurted out, “Uh—finished with downstairs?”

Rick took a step forward inside bathroom, “What’re you hiding at your back?”

She shook her head agitated and lied to him at the worst way he’d ever seen her doing, “Just toothpaste.”

“Amanda—”

Giving him another tight smile with closed lips, she started walking out, her hand still behind. He barricaded her exit with placing his palm against the frame. She turned to him with widened eyes, and continued playing the dumb, “Now seriously, a girl can’t have a little secret to herself?”

Still not lowering his arm at the door, Rick arched an eyebrow in response.

She huffed, bending down to pass under his arm, but lowering it, Rick wrapped it around her waist over the unbuttoned linen shirt and hoisted her up.

She almost yelped as her feet dangled over the tiles. Rick turned aside and started carrying her to the vanity table. He had no idea if he could do it, could manage to carry her with only one arm, and even though he staggered few steps until his destination, he did manage to settle her down at the top of it.

Mockingly, she looked at him, “Bravo, Rick—” she commented with dryness, “The next time I fear you’re gonna carry me over your shoulder.”

He took a step and pushed himself between her naked legs, “I might.”

She slid back an inch over the table’s top, her right hand catching the narrow edge of the drop-in sink beside her as her left was still hidden behind her back, “Uh—Rick, we should check the house—” she breathed out.

“I’m already finished—” he told her, leaning down a bit further, “You?”

She swallowed, “Almost.”

“I take you only got one item left to pack—something I shouldn’t see.” She stared at him in silence. Rick let out a sigh, “Amanda, I thought we stopped doing this.” His eyes found hers too in a challenge, and he asked, “Where’s the girl who kissed me?”

She breathed out a big sigh again, and drawing upward, she brought out the package she was hiding behind.

She raised the blue package over his eyes, and shrugged, “Found these.”

And Rick stared, his eyes skipped at the blue, then turned back to her, “Condoms—” he rasped out, “Y-you acted like that because you found condoms.”

She shrugged, and bowing his head, Rick started laughing.

# # #

His laughter must’ve been the most annoying thing she’d ever seen him doing. She hit him at the shoulder, “Stop laughing, it’s not funny.”

He shook his head, “I’m sorry—” he said between laughs, “I’m sorry—but why? Why did you hide it like that?”

“I don’t know!” she cried out, “I—you walked on me, I was holding it. Then I panicked!”

His laughter dying, he looked at the blue package, “Didn’t want to get caught your hands in the cookie jar?”

Amanda rolled her eyes, resting herself further backward at the corner of the vanity table, feeling the chilly touch of the semi-marble counter over her semi naked buttocks, “It’s not funny,” she repeated low in her throat, but to her utter amazement, her tone came out…whining.

The situation was so bizarre, she couldn’t even get worked up.

Rick smiled at her again in that way, taking the package from her fingers. “It must be at least two years old—” he remarked slowly, twirling it around to find the production date, “Perhaps even more.”

The house was empty since the beginning of the outbreak, they both knew it. “It must’ve been already expired—” he said, still trying to find the expiration date, but Amanda shook her head.

“Most condoms have a five-year shelf life—” she commented offhandedly, and his hand stopping, his eyes shot up at her. Looking at him with a fleeting look, Amanda shrugged.

Holding a sigh back, Rick opened the package. “What’re you doing?” she exclaimed, leaning forward as her hands jolted up to stop him.

Rick looked at her funnily. “I’m checking it—” he answered, “What’re _you_ doing?”

“We—we shouldn’t waste them,” she murmured, running her eyes away.

Rick smiled at her, catching her gaze again, “No, we shouldn’t.” Balancing his hands at the edge of the vanity at each side of her like he’d done at the management office in the church, he leaned over her, “We still have an half of hour before we go to the food bank,” he slowly said, swallowing lowly in his throat, his eyes still holding hers, “Wanna take another break?”

Amanda gulped, almost hearing the sound it made too, her heart beating madly in her chest. She knew she had to say no. This—they—they couldn’t do this. Not in the middle of a supply run, hadn’t they still learned their lessons?

But he was also still staring at her with that look, like all day, and there was that pulsing tugging at her in her core with each breathe she took, and a wanton desire, a need was so strong in her, it was clouding every logic. Yet, she still tried… “We…we shouldn’t do this—” she breathed out forcefully.

“We cleared the house,” Rick reasoned back, “Secured it, too. And we’re alone—” He raised his hand, showing her the blue package, “And we got a full of package of condoms… I say universe’s sending us signals.”

With that, he smiled at her again, and she was done.

In answer, she slid herself closer toward at the edge, and wrapping her legs around his waist, she pushed herself up a little to kiss him. They were going to do it—again…with a condom, just like she had wanted…had sex, enjoying each other’s company how they were supposed to.

How she wanted them to. She wanted this, not that crazy intensity. She only felt excited, too, those damn butterflies fluttering inside her stomach, no coiled barbed ball.

She smiled against his lips, tightening her legs, and wound her arms around his neck, too. She wanted him closer. He responded at the same way, encircling his arms around her waist, and started scooping her up in his embrace off the table, “Let’s go to bed—”

She stopped him digging her bare heels under his hips, drawing herself back down at the vanity table. No. She moved her lips away from his lips, resting back, yanking him closer herself, too, “Here’s fine—” she whispered out.

Here definitely was fine. There was a mirror just behind them, and the vanity table and the drop-in sink was just against his hip, levelling her perfectly with him. Her eyes flicked aside, and she found their reflection in the mirror, tangled with each other as she lay over the vanity’s smooth surface, almost naked.

The image was enough to turn her even more agitated, a constant buzzing inside her, as she got insanely, drippingly wet.

She just wanted to do him now as hard as she could, let herself go. It’d been so long. She wanted him to give her that, fuck her into oblivion. She twined herself around him tighter, “Now—” she called out at him with a half smirk, half a smile, “Let’s fuck.”

Within a heartbeat, he was atop of her, pushing her over the table’s top all way down, her back hitting at the corner. Her right arm shot up to catch the side of the cupboard above her head to catch her balance with the momentum of the sudden move, her legs flailing but she recuperated quickly, drawing herself up against at the corner as his mouth started devouring hers.

Her eyes skipped at the mirror, and her whole body tightened with anticipation, stimulated, no anxiety, no nervousness, but the constant buzz of desire and lust building in her like a wildfire, sending waves after waves down to her fingertips.

God—she _so_ wanted this.

The feeling only intensified when his hands started taking off her unbuttoned shirt. He slid it off over her shoulders quickly and didn’t stop even for a second before he started undoing her bra, handing her the condoms.

She tore open the package as Rick encircled around her back to unhook her bra, but instead of taking it off, he chose to play with it, his bushy bearded chin scrubbing gruffly over lacework as his hand twisted around her other breast. Amanda drew in a hitched breath as he twirled the peak of her nipple, letting out a moan as she peered inside to count.

Twenty, twenty little bright things. She took one, placing the package down as Rick finally drew back, stopping playing with her breasts. He unhooked her bra, and started lowering them over her arms, taking his sweet moment this time. When he did, he started watching her, as if a man of thirst looking at a glass of cold water in the middle of desert, drinking the almost naked sight of her. She gulped as she felt he was a way to clothed again as she was down to her panties. She stuck the condom between her lips, and leaned forward, dragging her legs over the counter, her hands going to his belt. Underneath her, the chilly touch of semi-marble surface grew colder, giving her goosebumps. Or perhaps it was because Rick was staring at her that way, heavy eyes clouded with lust as he watched her unbuckling his belt, the condom in her mouth.

His gaze got even heavier as she lifted her eyes at him, her hands quickly working on him as the tug inside her turned into a throb… building more and more, missing… His holster dropped down with a thud, falling over her shirt on the floor. Leaning over her again, his eyes still fixated at her unflinching, he hooked his fingers around her knickers, and pulled them down over her legs. This wasn’t the first time they’d undressed each other, but it felt different, everything felt different, making her simmer more with anticipation and excitement.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt like this, everything in her throbbing with need as if she were shrunk into one single point missing something.

And, Amanda knew damn well what she was missing.

So, the condom still in her mouth, her eyes on his, she went to claim what was missed. Unzipping his jeans quickly, she slipped her hand in. Her fingers curled around his hardness, and she gave it a hard pull.

Hard—she didn’t want nothing soft and slow now—hard and fast… everything.

As if he was also in agreement, Rick drew his head backward, hissing lowly in his throat. His Adam-apple moved over his trachea as he did, and something else deep in her core responded at it, and whatever little restraint she had over herself, the sight of him unraveled it. Unraveled her.

With a sudden move, she clenched her legs tighter, capturing him in a tight hold as he looked at her surprised, then she flipped herself around in a swift move like they did over the mat in the work-outs and brought them down on the ground.

It possibly hurt—the way she’d thrown him down, perhaps even more with his healing injuries, but he only hissed out again as he ended up at his back over the tiles, Amanda straddling him over his hips.

This time she smiled wickedly and yanked his white basic shirt’s hem off his jeans, getting him semi naked at least. She just couldn’t wait anymore. She had to have him. Now.

She positioned herself further over his crotch. She took the condom out of her lips as Rick pulled off his shirt off over his head, Amanda loosening his jeans to pull him free in the meantime. Her eyes on him, she worked on him with one hand as she offered the condom towards his lips with the other.

He had the bite, after all.

Smirking back at her, Rick did it. Craning his head up, he bit the edge of the plastic wrap and pulled his head away viciously. The elastic resisted first, but he gave at it another try, yanking it off with his teeth as Amanda gave him another hard pull, and his head dropped backward again as he moaned loudly, the edge of the plastic wrap finally came off.

She smiled coyly at him, “Thank you, sir.”

Another smirk played across his lips, and it created another pulse inside her…how much she liked seeing him like this… “Glad to be a help—” he roughed out, then hissed out between his teeth as Amanda squeezed her fingers, “Harder—” he ordered her, closing his eyes.

Amanda did. She wanted to have him inside her, but she wanted to see him like this too—She stroked him harder. “Wanna me come down on you?” she asked, a voice so throaty she couldn’t even be sure it belonged to her.

Rick titled his eyes upward and gave her a look, “I wanna fuck you.”

Her head started spinning even worse, but she didn’t waste anytime further. She took her hand off away and dragged his jeans down around his knees with his underwear.

Satisfied, she took the rubber, her eyes casted downward, and placed it at the tip of his erected penis and rolled it down with one fluid move. She leaned over him then, raising herself a bit upward over his crotch, her hand over where they were connected was bringing his penis over her dripping wet entrance. The buzzing inside her had become such a torment now, she felt like she’d been bitten by a million of mosquitoes, every inch of her skin itching, missing… she slid herself over his length to quell it down.

No word could describe the satisfaction it brought as she took him inside her easily, no barricade whatsoever keeping them apart, only the rubber between their wet, naked skin. He slipped in her wet channel deeper as Amanda lowered herself with a languorous moan, their lips barely touching as she stood hovering over him, taking her hands down on the tiles at each side of his head.

Her eyes closed with the sensation. It felt so amazing—so fucking amazing having him inside her once again… “God—” she swore in a long groan, “Oh God…so good…” she breathed out. It was so fucking good. Her eyes still closed, she felt his hand tangled in her hair in response, bringing her closer to himself, driving further into her depths. She groaned even louder, as his mouth crashed on hers.

It was like a dance, grinding, rolling, move up and down—their rhythm upbeat like in a rave. Amanda had been in a couple of raves in her youth when she’d been trying new things, and the euphoric ecstasy of what they were doing exactly felt like that, like they were in a trance.

With her each move, Rick was thrusting in her wilder and deeper, his hands grabbing at the sides of her waist tightly to keep her in the position. The sounds their bodies made each time they collided was filling the bathroom as they changed the angles of their position quickly and swiftly; one moment she was drawn back, her hands propped against his knees for strengthen, her back arched, the next he pulled her roughly at his chest, moving in and out of her frantically until she pulled upright again. It was as wild as they fought, but it wasn’t for dominance—it was just for…she didn’t know. She didn’t care, either.

It. was. just. so. good.

So fucking good. She shot up her hands and held the edge of the sink above her head tightly and started riding him as fast and hard as she could, tossing her head back, her eyes shut close.

It was everything—everything she’d ever imagined. This was how they should do _this,_ not like in the woods, what had happened in the woods was just a one-time-thing.

The assurance broke another dam in her as she went wilder, moving over him even faster, arching her back fully as she balanced her hands on his knees again. The shift of the angle took him deeper in her, a deep, loud moan falling off of her lips as he still managed to find a spot under her, her ecstasy building in her like a pulsing continuous heartbeat, and she almost saw stars flashing in the dark behind her closed eyelids when he started rolling his hips.

It was so good, so fucking good, she wanted to scream her head off. Her head tossed back again, she bit her lips to muffle out her screams with the last of common sense left to her, drawing blood as her body started moving along with his new rhythm on its account. The rolling thing he was doing between the hard, quick, rough strokes—God, it must’ve banned across the fifty states. It was killing her, just killing her crazy.

She was so lost in it, lost in the moment she didn’t even feel the bite Rick gnawed along her jawline as he drew up, gathering her in his arms pulling her upright nor she felt the hard twist he gave to her nipples as he roughly rocked her back and forth over his lap, his hands like claps at her hips, her climax straining more and more, further and further as he drove them together into the lustful, carnal frenzy. Between his arms, she was unraveling, coming apart at the seams…

God, how truly she’d missed this—missed this feeling—the raw sex—unraveling—letting go everything…

Still in his arms over his lap, she tightened her arms over his neck and fastened her pace. She wanted him harder—faster—as much as they could get—as much she could take… As if realizing what she needed, like he always did, Rick rested his back against the vanity for support, and started giving to it her…harder, faster, rougher as her right hand shot up again and she grabbed the sink’s edge blindly—holding—holding at the edge of the cliff as they fucked each other senseless, just like she had _always_ wanted.

Then suddenly his eyes lifted upward, finding hers, and slowed down their pace.

Drawing back, opening her eyes, Amanda started protesting. She was so close, so fucking close but the words died on her lips as she saw Rick staring at her, still rocking her back and forth over his lap with a bit gentler rhythm. The intensity was still heavy in his darkened blue eyes laden with lust and desire, but this time she didn’t run away from them as she saw the thing that had made him flirt with her all day was still underneath, the mischievous glint as he laughed at her with his eyes. A wicked smirk played over his lips, too, and he yanked her toward him back, “Enjoying yourself?”

She realized then she was smiling back at him, “Yeah—very—” she breathed out, diving to nib at his earlobe as she knew the act would make him hitch a breath, “You?”

As he did, his arms tightened over her waist and pushed her on him harder, this time rougher, “What do you think?” he rasped out, doing _that_ thing with his hips.

Shivering in response, she let out a deep, languorous loud moan, her hands tightening at the edge, her head tossed back as she closed her eyes again, jolts of pleasure riding over her like waves, “I—think we’re so damn good at this, Rick,” and she told him what she felt.

Because they were. They might’ve totally fucked up with other things, had made a mess of things, but at least they were good at this, _finally_.

This time she heard his low, deep grumble of laughter, the feeling so unique—full of _him_ as his laughter vibrated in her insides. The jolts of raw pleasure this time directly hit into her core, waves after waves after waves, and it felt she was electrocuted, electrocuted with pleasure as her whole body buzzed with them. Giving herself a moment, her eyes still closed, Amanda felt the vibrations down to her every cell as Rick kept laughing silently, and her lips curving into a wider smile, Amanda then started moving over his lap once again, rolling with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, I think Amanda finally got her wish ;)  
> Writing this thing was so hard but so fun too--getting into Rick's flirtatious side again, as he swung between his wide spectrum, treating a supply run as a date :)  
> Like always, don't forget to leave a comment, if you're still reading.  
> Until the next time.


	43. Chapter 43

**XLIII.**

As he lay down over the chilly tiles of the bathroom after he was settled, Rick sensed the urge in him to whistle swiftly turning to have a smoke, which was absurd, considering he’d only had his first smoke in the passing week.

Though, the desire was still with him, as strong as the other desires in him, and giving out a low chuckle at the back of his throat, Rick brought his arm up and propped it against his forehead. He was beginning to understand why people wanted to smoke after a good fuck. And, it was. He’d just had the best lay of his life.

The tell-tale scent of raw sex had become more poignant, Rick could smell its distinctive mark even through the stall, pungent air in the bathroom. Amanda’s scattered clothes were tossed around them as she lay beside him stark naked over the tiles, shivers still passing over her body time to time after her own powerful release. His own clothes, aside his jeans, were among with them, too, his holster just beside her pants and just the next to it, there was the creamy wet condom full with his semen that Rick had disposed quickly pulling out of her after he’d come, spilling himself dry until his last drop. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d come this strongly, even harder than their first time.

It’d felt good too, being able to come inside her depths even though he'd felt the rubber that separated them, his first impulse being almost to pull it off.

The thought rushed through his mind again and his eyes flickered aside, and he spotted the disposed, used pitiful elastic thing over the tiles, a pinch knitting his brows together. There was nothing looking more pitiful than a used, disposed condom, left behind over the floor.

It was the first time Rick had had sex with a condom after long, long years, he’d forgotten how wearing the rubber felt like. The touch of elastic plastic over his skin had bugged him in a way he couldn’t exactly explain, a part of him wanting to go how they’d done it before, naked, nothing between them, even though he knew it was too dangerous. If—if she got pregnant like Lori had— Rick stopped the thought—he—he shouldn’t think of this stuff. It wasn’t the time—

Besides, it looked like it was what Amanda had exactly needed.

She’d truly broken something in her. If he’d ever had doubts about that before, after how they’d fucked each other into oblivion, Rick wouldn’t have questioned it anymore. Maybe condoms weren’t the direct reason, she’d come to hold his hand before that, but Rick still knew it’d helped her to let go.

This was what she was used to; raw, mind-blowing sex. Rick knew there was more to it than just sex, her issues with intimacy was still clear to him but regardless of it, despite of it, Rick had liked her seeing like _that_ —riding him fast and hard, claiming her release from him, her back arched, her head tossed back, or hopping in his lap, her hands tightly gripping the sink.

Amanda had truly needed this, and all things considered, Rick felt he had too. They’d earned this break, this ease. He’d thought their first time in the woods was the wildest sex of his life, but this was simply _different_ , doing it like that, unhinged as they let go in the flow, climbing to the peak together, lost in the thrill of the moment… _I think, we’re so damn good at this, Rick._

And, Rick was damn glad that she’d _finally_ seen it.

His eyes flittered over to her. Her tremors had slowed down now as she rested herself over the hard, cold floor more comfortably, her arms bent at her elbows over her head, one leg arched over her other knee all in her naked glory, her lithe toned body reddened with their wild joust and glistening with perspiration. Her loose, tangled hair had tousled further, too, but there was still a winded down expression all over her face, her lips curved up in a smile, and the sight of it—the sight of _her_ suddenly filled him with—a manly pride, seeing her like this, like Rick had always wanted—glowing in her bliss, like a well-fed, well-cared sleek cat.

She looked wholly satisfied, too, just like the cat that ate the canary, and damn sexy, so much that Rick wanted to roll over her again and start another round, their minds blowing away together. All in honesty, sex had never felt like this before for him, not only with Amanda, either. Before Lori, everything was a new experience, curiosity, sometimes bad sometimes good. With Lori, everything felt like a journey at first, learning each other—until it became mundane, almost treating it like a chore before they had grown apart even before the turn. With Amanda, the curiosity, the journey, learning each other, a whole new experience were mixed all together, but there was still more to it—again, more than just sex.

There was something as natural as primitive with it, but also joyful, the same thrill of catching release coursing through his veins in ten folds, a deepest desire urging him to go wilder, rawer... Perhaps it was because he hadn’t been like this before. He’d changed, he wasn’t the same man. No one could stay the same in this world. Rick didn’t know anymore, he only did what he had to, but right now it didn’t feel bad. In fact, it felt damn good, and she looked damn good too—and he felt a stir waking him again…

God, he really needed a smoke now.

He shook his head, his arm still over his forehead, and gave out another chuckle, this time a bit louder. In response, Amanda’s eyes fluttered open, and craning her head aside, she tossed a look at him even though her lips held the faint curve, then the smile turned into a smirk as her eyes glinted, catching him.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked roughly deep in throat, her voice still thick. Lowering his arm down, Rick slid over her closer and rolled his torso over her, balancing his hands beside her hands above her head, hovering above her just like he’d wanted.

“Yeah—very—” Smirking back, he muttered out like she’d done before their lips touched again. He was—he was enjoying himself very much.

She opened her mouth willingly, still lying motionlessly under him as Rick kissed her thoroughly. It was a slow kiss and he took his sweet time, brushing his lips over hers gently, enjoying himself _immensely_ , savoring his moment, their moment, not wasting any of it. Her lips were cracked, and their breaths weren’t fresh, both of them even smelled, but it didn’t matter. Rick still wanted to do this forever.

How—how she could’ve even thought they should stop doing this? She was made for him. It was so obvious—just like he’d noticed since the time he’d kissed her at Grady. They were made for each other… The thought—the _truth_ ignited the fire in him again, and leaning further over her, he deepened the kiss, pushing himself further over her. He wanted her. Again. Now.

Even through the haze of lust and desire in his mind, the fact poked him though, the simple knowledge that they didn’t have time. They had to go—the supply run, the food, the duty… He had to do it—duty first, fun later, he recalled the words. Shane had used to mutter it all the time before.

But Rick was still kissing her. When his teeth started nibbling her bottom lip, a clear sign that things were about to get interesting, Amanda inclined her neck backward an inch and ran away from his lips, picking it up. His smart girl. “Rick—” she breathed out, “We—we gotta go.”

“Yeah—” he said back, brushing his lips over her jawline this time over a hickey he’d done, his teeth mark just under the shadow of it, “I know.” He paused, flickering his eyes upward, all over her long graceful neck there were hickeys, some faint some more fierce, and the sight of them gave him another stir, even though he knew he was going to hear about it when she discovered what he’d done, “I want a whole night with you in the same room. _Alone_.”

A whole night alone—in the bed—letting go together, no rush, no danger around the corner, no watches, no runs, just two of them, alone. It was something to look forward to.

She made out a soft giggle back at him, and looking at her, Rick saw how young she was truly when she let her guard down, “Yeah, I know,” she remarked back with an innocent face, “You haven’t been able to sleep well in days.”

He shook his head, giving out another chuckle, “I’m _not_ planning sleeping, Mandy—” he assured her with a look, rolling her name over his tongue.

She stared at him— “Did you—did you just call me Mandy?” she asked back, laughing.

“I guess I did—” he said, smirking at her, “Do you mind?”

“Actually, I do, but I’m giving you a free card this time--” she shot back, started rising up, “But seriously we need to finish packing up. I still haven’t found my gifts.” She gave him another look as she sat back over the floor, “You just interrupted me.”

He snorted faintly, drawing up, too, “Said the girl who looked for the condoms the first thing—” he muttered out under his breath.

Her mouth opening a little, “I—I wasn’t!” she protested, “I was looking around—"

“Hmm mm—”

Sliding back, she turned aside and gathered her knickers from the tiles, “Pfft, I should’ve been grateful to me if I were you, Rick.” She pulled her underwear over her legs as Rick started tucking his jeans back, “You know we’re not the only ones who are doing it.”

Zipping himself, Rick glanced at her. Were they going to share now? They weren’t the only one who had gotten closer after the prison’s fall, Rick had noticed, too. Sasha and Bob had gotten together, the sergeant and Latina woman were together. There was Glenn and Maggie, too— “So do you want to share?” he asked, glancing at her again.

The question paused her, and she gave out a little sigh a second after, lifting her hips to slide her knickers over up, “Good people share what they have with people they care.”

He smiled at her, getting closer towards her back and gave a little light kiss at her shoulder blade, “You never cease to amaze me, Amanda,” he told her, his tone having a seriousness, because she never did.

Though, she was still predictable, as she shrugged off in response, looping her arms through her new lace bra. Rick took the brown tee shirt she had handed him at the downstairs from the floor, lying next to her white linen shirt and started pulling it over his head.

“Daryl and Joan spend a lot of time together too—” Amanda suddenly commented as she fiddled with her bra, her hands at her back. Finished with his t-shirt, Rick leaned down and took the end sides from her hands.

She was right. Daryl and Joan had really started spending a lot of time together, something Rick had noticed, as well. Twisting aside as he tugged back her bra, Amanda gave him a look over her shoulder, but Rick wasn’t sure it was because he’d started helping her to put back her clothes on or because of her last remark. Nevertheless, Rick had realized he liked dressing her as much as he liked taking her clothes off.

“I know—” he answered back, running his finger over down along her arm from her shoulder after he was done with the bra, and saw her shivering under his touch with satisfaction, “I noticed too.”

She paused, leaning down to take the white shirt as Rick still ran his fingers over her arm, “They've become quite inseparable, haven’t they?”

Rick nodded again, his fingers still playing over her skin, “Yeah.”

She turned to him fully, holding the shirt over her lap, tying her legs in lotus position in front of him. “But Daryl was close with Carol before, too, right? I never saw them together, but he was upset after you sent her away. And he—he was close with Michonne, too.” She paused, easing off her shoulder again, “Perhaps we’re reading too much of it.”

Rick narrowed her eyes, giving her a look. Her words had come out quite…worried. “Yeah, but I felt a tension between them. I don’t know. Carol and he are close, with Michonne he was going along too, but I don’t know.” He paused, too, “Daryl’s a good man, he’s like a brother to me. Took care of the prison while I was…away.” He gave her another look, and questioned, “Why are you worried?”

She shook her head, “Probably nothing, but you know me…” she trailed off before she started again, “Joan has been through a lot with Gorman. I don’t want her to deal with another thing.”

His eyes found hers, “Maybe she would want it—” he mumbled but she shook her head, “Either way, you don’t need to worry. Daryl's a very smart man, too, Amanda. He doesn’t talk much but nothing escapes from him. He—he was the first one who noticed us, too.”

Her eyebrows drew in together slightly, “Noticed how?”

“When you were being an idiot, wanting to go after Gorman—” Rick answered truthfully then, realizing that they were _actually_ having a talk, “I told you before Michonne had been looking for Governor after he lost our first battle. I didn’t go with her, but didn’t say anything when she wanted to go, either. Daryl asked me why—why I didn’t let you go like I did with Michonne.”

She looked at him, and asked with a small voice, “What did you tell him?”

“Told him it was different—” Rick answered again, his eyes on hers.

“Because it was me?” she asked again with the same voice.

Rick simply nod, his eyes still on hers. A smile breaking over her lips, she bowed her head, but a second later she whipped it up again, as if realizing something else, “So you didn’t mind Michonne going out--?” she asked, her voice loosing the shyness in it as she arched an half eyebrow at him, looking curious.

Letting out another sigh, he shook his head, “No.”

She smiled further, and started leaning over him, her lips moving towards his. Catching her at the upper arms, he stopped her. “No—no, don’t get ideas—” he quipped jokingly, glancing at his wrist to read the watch. There was a bit of time they still could spare, but if she kissed her now, Rick wasn’t sure if he was going to able to stop. So, he took the white shirt from her lap and started dressing her, better if she put something on. “We still gotta find your gifts,” he went on, taking her arm to push the linen shirt’s arms over hers, “and I wanna look around again if I can find some smokes.”

She gave him an incredulous look, raising her arm to help him too, “Smokes?” she asked back with the same disbelief too, “Do you smoke?”

“Had my first this week—” Rick answered, easing off a shoulder, “I think it’s turned a habit. Wouldn’t mind a smoke right now—” he trailed off.

“ _I know_ —” she said, heaving out, words strong with emphasis as Rick started buttoning her up. The linen cloth was sheer fabric and was showing off her lace bra rather interestingly, he stared at it with a slight scowl, as Amanda remarked thoughtfully, “We’d cast bad examples to the kids, though.”

Well, there was that too. Rick wouldn’t want Carl to pick it up, “Yeah--” he said back, looking around to find her pants, and wondered if she’d also found new ones, “Will do it only _in_ _private_ —“ He gave her a half smirk, and pointed at her uniform’s pants spotting them, then turned back to her--God, the new shirt really showed off her assets! “Are you gonna wear those or found new ones, too?” he questioned.

Standing up, she nodded, bending down to pick up the dirty garment in the meanwhile, “Yeah, found jeans in the wardrobe—” she said and spun on her heels to walk back in the bedroom.

Following her example, Rick pulled upright too, leaving the bathroom with a last glance—the mirror, the vanity table, the tiles… He really needed to get her in a room alone. When he walked out and joined her too, he saw her going through a backpack she’d already packed up beside the bed’s foot, and next to it, there was a dark skinny jeans. Taking it, she started fitting herself in, breathing out with exertion, “Uh, I hate skinny jeans—” she mumbled, forcing tight legs.

“Will you able to fight in them?” Rick asked, giving a studious look at the jeans. She was right. They really looked tight, showing off this time her back asset rather interestingly. And why the hell he’d become so—conscious of her body?

In answer, finished with her task, Amanda raised one leg and threw a basic kick, whirling around her axis. “Guess so—” she commented indifferently after it as Rick gave a half shake of his head. Her hands then began unbuttoning three buttons from the last line off the shirt. Rick stared at her.

“Still too tight—” she explained, tying the unbuttoned section over at her waist with nimble fingers then tucked the knot inside her waistline, covering her bare skin.

And, Rick really appreciated it. He’d had enough scares for a lifetime, “Tactical.”

She smiled at him quick, then bending down started putting on her boots too, giving him the opportunity to appreciate her back asset again. “Amanda—” Rick suddenly asked, remembering, “The night before you left—” he continued, “After you washed your uniform, how you slept?” She raised her head up, hearing the question, looking at him, her tousled hair framing her face waving as she shook her head, understanding his point. Rick let out a low laughter, “You did it, didn’t you?” he asked, still laughing, “You slept in sheets.”

Scowling, she pulled her boots ties, “Seriously, what time is it? Let’s poke fun at Amanda clock or something?” she muttered under her head as Rick laughed at more. With a last nasty look, she drew up and walked to the nightstand beside the bed. She then picked up a wooden box at the top of it, something she’d found earlier, Rick guessed, and threw out the contents inside over the bed.

Rick saw trinkets falling—no jewelry, but silver or metal necklaces, bracelets, and earrings as he paraded toward her too. She half turned toward him, leaning over the bed to going over her findings and came up with choosing a charm bracelet. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Rick looked at the item. It was a knitted silver bracelet, round elaborated silver work thick rings over it, a few charms dangling at the end, mixed with blues, an elephant, a heart without insides, and a blue gemstone. It was really pretty, and suddenly Rick felt the urge to find something for her, too, make her wear it all the time. As she picked up the bracelet and stuffed it inside her back pocket, his eyes picked up a simple snowflake necklace, the fake diamonds glinting in the gloom of the bedroom brightly.

Perfect. It was perfect for her.

He bent down too and took it as Amanda stopping zipping her backpack, noticed him. She ran her eyes away quickly as Rick caught her, then pulling her up, moving behind her, he brought the necklace over her neck, the neck he’d bruised and marked with his lips and teeth just a few minutes ago, and clipped the necklace.

Perfect, just perfect. Now, she’d always carry something of him on herself.

In front of her, Rick heard her swallowing low, then she looked at him over her shoulder again, and her neck twisted aside he saw her glinting necklace, and another desire rose high in him—seeing her naked with it—only with him, squirming under him or just riding him madly— “Thank you—” she mumbled out, “It’s very pretty.”

Rick gave a light kiss at the tip of her nose as her eyes closed, “Pretty things for pretty girls—” he whispered at her.

She paused a second at first, then shook her head, her eyes opening, “You’re quite the charmer, Rick—” she teased, smiling, and Rick knew she was trying to break the sudden moment between them, “First a whole bouquet, then a necklace. Will cook me dinner the next?”

He smiled back at her, “I _might_ —”

She gave him a look, “Do you know how?” she asked pointedly.

Rick recalled how one of their first quarrels after she’d come to the prison had started. His smile turned to a smirk, taking her hand as he started dragging her out of the bedroom, taking the backpack with his other hand, “Why, Amanda, are you insinuating that I’m not _the_ _type_?”

She giggled at his comment, falling beside him easily, “Well—” she said back, giving off a shrug, “Maaybe.”

“I’ll let you know that I’m _very_ a good cook,” he told her in mock seriousness.

“Please, the last squirrel you did was undercooked.”

“Please—” he shot back, “It was medium-rare. Not my fault if you don’t have a gusto.”

She snorted as they walked down over the hall, Rick looking around, “The second one at the left—” she instructed their destination as they passed over another bedroom, “There’s no nursery room, I’m afraid,” she explained further, “Let’s hope others have better luck.”

Rick shook his head, “We’ve been very lucky—” he told her, this time in real seriousness, sliding a look, “We found an untouched house, food, clothes—”

“And condoms—” she cut in, giving out a moderate laugh.

“And condoms—” Rick agreed, nodding along, “By the way, you can only give away the half if you want,” he warned, tossing at her another glance, “The rest is _ours_.”

Her already flushed cheeks turned even redder at that, but she nodded, “’kay.”

They walked into a bedroom, clearly belonging to a teenager, a boy. Amanda walked to the library as Rick knelt down at the floor to open up the backpack again. “Hey—” she turned to him again, stopping as she tried to rummage through the books to pick up one for Carl, “We—we need to celebrate,” she then said, “for real. I saw those wine bottles at the management office. How about a party? We’ll find more food at the food bank, too.”

His head lifted up at her, Rick stayed…indecisive. A part of him wanted to say yes, he _wanted_ to celebrate, going on doing this with her and with others, have a bit downtime, have fun, today was being so good—so nice, so easy—but duty… He shook his head, “We’re still not out of the woods, Amanda—” he told her, “We shouldn’t drink. We shouldn’t let our guard down.”

She shook her had back at him, “We’re _not_ —” she insisted, “We’ll still be careful—but we—we have to—” She shook her head again, “We need it, Rick,” she said then, “We need to cool down. For real,” she added before he could open his mouth. “Beth and Carl need it, too,” she went on, taking a book aimlessly, possibly just to do something as she started getting anxious again, “You—you wanted us to cool down before, but Terminus happened before we could catch a breath. Beth—Beth acts…strange. I’m worried.”

Rick stood up, “What’s happened?” he asked, walking to her closer, “She seems fine.”

Turning to him, she waved her hands, still holding the book, “Yes! Too fine—like…like nothing happened. She—she acts like she wasn’t about to get raped—acts like there’s no wound in her hand.” She paused, bowing her head, “I—I don’t like it.”

Rick gave her a look, wondering if she realized now _how_ he felt when she herself acted just exactly like that. He almost half told her so too, but held it back. It was about Beth, and she seemed clearly distressed. He didn’t want to turn it to an issue about them. Amanda liked Beth like a real sister, from the start. She was truly distressed, and Rick didn’t want her to be. She was right. They really needed it. A real celebration. “’kay—” he told her then, giving away a half nod, “But _no one_ is getting drunk—” he warned, “No one.”

She nodded back eagerly, smiling big, “Of course.”

And once again, she looked so beautiful, smiling at him big pleased—not sexy, or alluring, or anything, but just beautiful, full of life, alive— “Amanda, do you know how to cook pancakes?” the question suddenly popped out of him even before he heard himself blurting it out aloud.

She stared at him, “Wh—what?”

“Uh—” Rick breathed out, “Pancakes—do you know how to make them?”

She nodded, “I—I wasn’t used to—but yeah—” she paused, “Why?”

Swallowing, he gave a shrug off, “Nothing—just…just missed them, I guess.”

She nodded, “I—I understand. I missed cookies, too—” she said, “Chocolate chip cookies.”

“Missed them, too—” Rick said back, then his eyes found hers, “What else have you missed?”

She shook her shoulders, “Not much—” She paused, “I—I missed my goldfish—” then said, looking at him back, “She—she was really cute.”

Her goldfish—the urge to take her in his embrace incited in him strongly again, holding her tightly in his embrace, but out loud he asked, “What was her name?”

“Red—” she said, smiling shyly this time, “I know, cliché—” she continued, sighing out, “But couldn’t find a better name.”

“It's a good name,” Rick said in return.

“Yeah—” She paused, and rose her hand, the one still holding the book she’d picked up blindly from the bookshelf, “The Maze Runner—” she read the title aloud, “How does it sound?” she turned the book’s back cover, and read the summary from there, too, “ _When Thomas wakes up in the lift, the only thing he can remember is his name. He’s surrounded by strangers—boys whose memories are also gone… Then a girl arrives. The first girl ever. And the message she delivers is terrifying: Remember. Survive. Run._ ”

She lifted her head, and smiled at him again, “Sounds interesting, huh?”

Rick gave another nod, “Very good advice.” _Remember. Survive. Run._ Very good advice.

“Yeah—” she laughed out lightly, “I’m being didactic.” She shook her head, “I mean— _literally_.”

In answer, Rick laughed faintly too, and rising his hand, checked his watch, “C’mon. Duty calls. We gotta go.”

She threw a few other books inside the backpack, as well, picking up them blindly once more, then finished with it, they went back to the downstairs. There Rick handed her the backpack again, lifting the packs he’d made below the staircase earlier before finding her upstairs. They walked toward the door hurriedly. Rick pulled the stand they’d propped against the door aside a few inches, just to give them a pathway to slip out. Reaching out, he turned the lock open as Amanda gave a last look around them, then she whipped toward him, “Smokes!” she cried out low in her throat, “We didn’t look for smokes.”

Rick shook his head, his hand already on the knob, “Don’t have time. We find ‘em the next time.”

Amanda slipped herself in over the empty space between the door, the stand and him, her eyes on him, then rose on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss, “The next time—” she told him back, too.

His lips curving up, Rick did the same, “The next time.”

# # #

As they walked toward their destination point, Amanda wanted to knock on the wood of the whole world. Everything was going so _well_ , she actually started getting worried about that fact, waiting another bad thing to happen, the other shoe drop.

Because it always did, right? A bad thing always happened to them, right after another and other. She didn’t want to tempt the fate, but when came to think about it a tempted fate perhaps wouldn’t have been so bad. She was tired. They were all tired.

A party, a real party was going to be good for them, she knew. She couldn’t believe Rick had said yes to it. Cooling down was fine with him but drinking… Amanda guessed he really felt the need, too, just like them. Even though sometimes he acted otherwise, Rick was still a man.

Today, he was different, though, a very, very different man, a man Amanda had only seen glimpses off before. After she’d come back to the prison, they’d mostly kept away from each other trying to cool down things, so Amanda couldn’t have seen this side of him properly, but only glimpses of it whenever it’d surfaced out over the distance between them.

She wondered if this man was how he’d been before the world had turned upside down. Rick was a creature of comfort zones as much as she was. Beth and Maggie had been always claiming Rick had a fun streak in him, too, something again Amanda had only seen in glimpses before, in those rare times he’d used to throw at her quick glances or teasing half smiles. He’d said he was trying something new, too, so Amanda wasn’t really sure, but either way, she wished they could’ve stayed in that house forever—be like that forever—the joy, the ease—her hand went toward her neck and touched at her neck.

Her throat still felt sore, her neck was still aching, and even without seeing, she knew she was going to bear marks of today for a while, Rick had been quite insistent on that.

Sex had been so amazing, afterward so good as well, even though the intensity usually simmered beneath them reared out of their depths sometimes—with the thought, her fingers found her necklace, feeling the touch of the silver over her bruised skin. She’d told herself it wasn’t anything big, just a little present, the way she’d wanted to make sure to bring something special for the kids. She’d liked it, too, the thought he’d wanted it—wanted to give her something, just like flowers…his eyes glinting sharply under his tousled dark locks, his just fucked look carrying a whole different kind of intensity in them—

Yeah, the intensity was still there… _told him it was different._

His admission had blown her away, that he’d had a talk with someone about _them_ even that earlier. The bare truth had made her insides flip flop again too, that he hadn’t cared Michonne going out, but had lost his shit because it was _her_ … Her stomach did that weird thing again, remembering it, millions of butterflies fluttering at the same time, something tugging deep in her. Amanda tried to quell herself down, she—she should cool down. They were going to fight with rotters, she couldn’t do it like this. She shouldn’t become a liability.

She damn needed to find a common ground. She felt like they had, they had found—or founded something, a new foundation, but she couldn’t know what to save her life.

It was hard to explain. They’d talked a lot of stuff today, but when Amanda thought on them, she couldn’t remember properly. All she was able to recall was figments of the scenes, scattered around out of order. It felt like they were pieces of a puzzle, too—a puzzle she just couldn’t see wholly or fit in.

The most bizarre thing had been him asking her about pancakes. She had no idea from where it’d come out or what it meant, even though she knew it did. The little pieces had been always there with them, too, the way he'd left her breadcrumbs a few times before to follow, but in those times, Amanda had just picked them up and stored them like the good cop she was, and brought them up when they were needed, figuring out the big picture.

Now, the big picture was all over around, their pieces scattered in a bizarre chaos— _Frankly, I thought, we’re all over the pages…_

Damn man, being always right.

They really needed a place, not only a roof over their heads, but a real place where they could sit down, cool down, and figure this out— _again_ just like Rick had told her back at the funeral home before everything had turned just more fucked up with them.

Amanda wanted to let out a sigh, Rick had been _right_ all along. But at least they hadn’t fucked up this time. And perhaps, if they did find a place, they might even get better at this. They really hadn’t been so bad today, not at all. What Joan had asked her had come to the tip of her tongue too, but she hadn’t wanted to disturb their moment. That still was going to call a different kind of talk. Maybe she could try it at the party tonight—over a drink. She wasn’t very fond of the idea herself, going to find a place after what had happened with Terminus, but she really felt like she owed it to Noah, and well, they really needed a place. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, but the church was still so _small_ for sixteen people.

Besides, Amanda really wouldn’t mind spending a night together with him in the same room, _alone_. God, she really wouldn’t mind it.

Though, she still wasn’t sure of how—or the extent of it, just a night or _nights_ … She stopped the thought before she got carried away again. It was still too early to think on this stuff. They needed to figure this out in _time_.

Time—god, time was really relative, somehow it was so hard to remember they were still so new to this. Forcing her thoughts stay on the track, Amanda focused on the mission ahead, the itch to knock on the wood coming back to her.

So far, so good, she passed in her mind. The only thing she’d missed in the house was the nursery room—she’d never looked for smokes until Rick had made that comment. She hoped the other teams had had even better chance than them or they could find baby things in the food bank, so they could also have stuff for Judith.

Amanda had found a doll in the bedroom for Mika, too, possibly something had left from the previous owner’s childhood. Mika was ten years old, but Amanda still had used to like dolls when she was ten, so she guessed it was a safe bet. Beth’s bracelet was pretty, and Carl’s book sounded kickass, so if they found something for Judith, too, her circle would be complete.

But all in frankness, Amanda wasn’t looking for food. She wanted real baby stuff, clothes, books, toys. She wanted to read at least a book to Judith, looking at the pictures together before she went to sleep. Amanda had always wished someone read her a book like in the movies before she used to go to sleep, and seeing the little baby suffering the same fate she’d had was making her teeth grind. They were managing to feed her, but babies needed more than food. Amanda had been very glad when she’d managed to secure children diseases vaccines for Judith at Grady, but now she just wanted to do more. She wondered how much it’d take to make a baby book or a carved toy.

Amanda was useless when it came to drawing, but she was pretty good with knives. Her knives were still on her person, the hunting knife at her belt, and her secret weapon, the push dagger she hid inside her right boots. Both of them weren’t good for carving, but Rick had a pocket-knife she could use. Always being artistic, Beth was also pretty decent with drawing, so when her hand healed, perhaps they could do something for Judith together.

She almost nodded at herself, her mind decisively set when Rick suddenly called at her in a whisper, “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, getting closer to her, “You just dozed off.”

She pulled herself out of it, and darted a quick look at him, “Nothing. I was just thinking on something.” In answer, he gave her a look, too, but his was lingering, inquisitive eyes searching through hers, “I’m focused, Rick,” she assured him reading their meaning, “Don’t get worked up.”

His laid back, just-had-a-good-fuck expression had already turned into his usual set features as they’d left the safe haven they’d found. They were out in the danger zone once again, and Rick was very adaptable. He nodded at her briefly before his eyes turned back to scan their whereabouts, waiting the danger ahead of the corner.

Doing the same, Amanda wandered her eyes around the ghost town. Something was feeling wrong with it, too. They’d only seen a few rotters at the side of the road twice, no further sight of living or dead. The roads were covered with littering fallen dead leaves, dry, brown and dark red over the dirty, dusted streets and road, untouched, undisturbed, the eerie silence in their ears.

Worse, every house, every little pathway, every road, every street looked the same. She’d never seen this much of negligence and abandonment before, emitting off every inch of their surroundings. Her wandering her eyes spotted the dried lawns, fallen or broken amulets and talismans, the red-orange maple or red oak trees lined at the sides of the road swinging whatever had left on their branches. It cast even ghastlier appearance to the whole thing, almost turning the hair on her back up. She shook her head, turning to Rick, “Where’s all the people?” she whispered.

There had to be somewhere, even if most of them might’ve been able to leave early in the turn. Amanda guessed they had, too, judging by the way they’d found the townhouse. This was a wealthy part of the neighborhood, the houses didn’t look luxurious, but Amanda still had sensed some wealth scavenging, the skinny jeans and white linen shirt had the brand names too, just like every other item in the house. She’d recognized Swarovski crystals too in her necklace, something the owners had left behind as _trinkets_. Perhaps the townhouses had been just get-away hid-ins of the weekends for the city’s wealth, so being able to get out quick made sense—most of the residents wouldn’t even have been here when it’d all started, but still…

“Well, we know some of them are in the food bank,” Rick remarked lowly, slanting at her a look.

That if the pastor had been truthful on that part, even though Amanda couldn’t see a reason why he would’ve lied about it. Frankly, she was more afraid it was _just_ the case, and he was setting up them into a trap. More or less, they’d crashed into his home—invading his church—was going to drink his communion wine, not that the holy man knew that part yet. If the man wanted them gone—the best way from him to do that was to set them up into the path of the rotters in hopes that the dead would do the rest.

It quite sounded like Dawn’s plan, using Rick to clean out the Death Wing. If they managed to clear out the food bank, the priest was going to have new supplies, but if they couldn’t, well, they were going to be dead. Win-win for him, either way.

Only the man wouldn’t have guessed Rick would’ve wanted him on the team, as well. A deadly miscalculation, but Amanda still hoped the father was just the man who looked and sounded like, a funny man having an affinity for holy scripts, not an uncanny mastermind planning for their demise, as they knew another fact, too. The town folk weren’t in the church, either.

She sighed out, “I just find it odd that there’s no one else in the church—” she said then lowly too, “That no one came.”

Rick shook his head, tossing at her another glance, “I think they did,” he said back, “Carl and Beth found something at the back of the church. Someone carved ‘You’ll burn for this’ over one of the sidings.”

She paused, thinking on it, and frowned as they took a left turn toward the town center where the food bank stationed, “So what—he kicked them out?”

It sounded very, very unlikely, and Rick grunted out a low snort, as if he was thinking of the same. She frowned further, as there was only one conclusion left after then, “Or he just didn’t take ‘em in,” she stated mildly, keeping her voice still low.

He nodded, and shrugged away, “I guess.”

“It’s why you wanted him to come with us?” she questioned further.

Rick gave her another half head shake quickly, “I wanted him to come with us because I don’t trust him an inch.” He paused, “But we all did things—” he repeated again, “Being a coward isn’t a crime,” he continued, but paused again, “as long as it doesn’t put us into jeopardy.”

Turning aside as they still kept walking, Amanda gave him a full look, “So we’re really gonna let him join us?” she asked, noticing her tone having an uncertainty in it, for what she wasn’t sure, either. Rick had asked the man the questions, and the young men were with them—

He let out a low sigh, “Well, it’s more like _we_ joined him now—” he said, “For later—I don’t know—” he confessed, “This whole cure thing,” he then said, his own tone having an uncertainty in it, too, “I just don’t know.”

Amanda sighed out then a little too, their conservation finally coming to it, “I know you don’t believe it, but we still need to go _somewhere,_ Rick—” she said then, and continued quickly, “Joan found me this morning. Noah wants to go back to his home.”

That made his steps halt for a split of second, “His home—his home is close to D.C, right?” he asked back.

She was surprised he knew that, but then Noah _really_ talked a lot about his home. She nodded. “Yeah, he was wondering if we’d want to try our chances—” she explained, then said truthfully, “I—I think it’s worth a try. We really don’t know anything outside Atlanta. Maybe things are better closer to D.C, maybe there’s still some kind of civilization left there.”

She knew she had a point, but Rick still shook his head, “That’s a lot of maybes, Amanda.”

She let out another sigh, “I know—” she paused, “Maybe they just let us in if we bring Noah back. Noah said they got walls.”

Rick shook his head again, “We’re too much of a crowd now. If it were only Noah, you and Joan, they would have, but not all of us.”

Well, that was exactly what she’d thought as well, the safety in numbers also meant danger in crowds, too, at Grady they only took one person at a time, and at the prison she knew they had never taken in large groups. Large groups disturbed the established order, something no one could afford in these times. But still they were highly capable people, fighters and survivors. Anyone would also want them on their side too. “We’re capable people. We’re both cops, we got a ranger and a sergeant. We know how to survive. These are worthy assets, too.”

He shrugged indifferently, “Yeah.”

“And Joan said she doesn’t want to wander aimlessly,” she continued, “I told her we’re not wandering aimlessly, but the truth is—uh—we _are_.” She paused, swallowing down a lump in her throat, the confession coming to her hard, “We need a purpose.”

His jaw squared, and turning aside, he gave her a look, “It’s not a purpose,” he said back, “It’s wishful thinking.”

“We _need_ a real place, Rick—” she returned, “It’s not wishful thinking, it’s a fact.”

He shook his head, “I _am_ going to find us a real place, Amanda—” he told her then with all seriousness, “Do you _really_ think I let y’all wander in the woods like this?”

No, of course not. She shook her head in answer, too, “No—of course not,” she repeated out loud, “I know you will, but I—I feel—” Stopping in her steps, she turned and looked at him again, “I—I feel like I owe Noah, Rick,” she then confessed, “I—fucked up at Grady. If Noah didn’t find us in the corridor, if he didn’t help us, we would’ve never escaped. If he wants to go back to his home now, I feel like I need to help him.”

Tilting his head down an inch, he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, his eyes closing momentarily, “Amanda, why didn’t tell it first?” he asked the next, murmuring under his breath.

She bowed her head too, shrugging off, “I’m telling—”

Taking a few steps closer to her, Rick held her at the upper arms, “Amanda—please, you don’t need to hide what you feel from me.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her head still bowed, she quickly bobbed her head. She tried not to read too much into his words, as if…as if it meant other things, but she wasn’t hiding now, she _was_ telling him. The worms were crawling deep in her stomach, and her heart beating a staccato in her chest, but she was being open and honest. She was trying at least.

She lifted her head, “This’s what I feel, Rick,” she said, waving her hand between them, “All of it. We need to find a place, and I’d like to help Noah if I can while doing it.”

Rick simply nodded then, “A’right. We talk about it later then,” he told her, letting his hand off of her, “If Noah really wants to do it, we’ll help him, but we need to talk it thoroughly.”

She nodded back too, “Okay.”

He took her hand after that, lightly this time, and Amanda let him. It was really stupid, walking in a ghost town hand-to-hand, the danger lurking ahead of them at every corner, but Amanda didn’t really care. She knew how quickly they would draw out their guns at the first sight of the trouble, their response time was always in milliseconds, spot on. And the others—well, Amanda didn’t have anything to hide now. So, she kept her hand with him, parading towards the town center in the empty streets.

Amanda saw abandoned cars at the roadside, parked, as they fastened their pace, and titled her head towards them, “We need to check if they’re still running.”

Rick gave her a little nod, “Yeah. After the food bank. I want our feet off of the road, too—” he said back just before turning another turn and emerging out the city center.

Paved with cobblestones, it was a small round area, two hundred or so yards in radius, a bronze statue at the center of the circle on an aisle. There was a soldier on a prancing horse, she guessed the local hero of the town from the old days, but she couldn’t read who he was as carvings on the stone at the aisle had been washed with blood. There were still no rotters around—just blood, dust, and fallen leaves like every other part of the town, a few banks and folded chairs and small round iron tables laying together with them over the cobblestones.

She imagined herself sipping a coffee after her run in the early morning, having an espresso and a bagel as she’d used to do sometimes in the central park after her daily routine. The town was still holding that old-school aura around, the atmosphere reminiscent to an European old town, not that Amanda had ever been in one.

She really would’ve liked to have one of those round iron tables and folded chairs. They would put them at the church’s lawn or over the porch, sitting down… Maybe if they managed to find a car, they could bring back a pair. She turned to Rick as the same time others had started coming to from other directions.

Together with the pastor, Joan and Daryl were the first ones, just before the sergeant and the Latina, quickly followed by Sasha and Bob. They were still holding hands as they waited others, both of them not letting each other. There were quick cast glances at them, but forcing herself not to react, Amanda blocked them away.

She wasn’t going to pull herself back!

But the next second, Rick let her hand go, and pointed at them with his head, “Everything good?” he asked briefly as Amanda tried not to scowl.

It—it was normal, she told herself. Of course, he’d had to let it go. They couldn’t go on a supply run with holding hands. It was _stupid_. Her lips almost flattened with the thought, she schooled her face into indifferent as the other teams bobbed their heads affirmative.

“Anyone found a nursery room in the houses?” she questioned then, turning her mind back to where it should’ve been. Bob and Sasha were the first ones to shake their heads, and flickering a look aside, Amanda saw Daryl doing the same. Rosita then patted at her backpack, “We found one—” she said, “There wasn’t much left, but we packed up whatever we could. Mostly, leftover clothes.”

“Books—toys?” Amanda inquired further, but Rosita gave her a look.

“Sorry, we didn’t have time to look for books and toys,” the woman said back crisply.

This time Amanda scowled. They all had had one hour, and they’d managed to do quite a _lot_ during their own. But getting into a quarrel about time management on a supply run didn’t sound like a good time, and Amanda didn’t really want to tempt the fate anymore.

God, she really needed to find a wood and knock on.

Rick turned to the pastor, “Where’s the food bank?” he asked quickly, tossing a look at his wrist. Amanda inclined her neck up and caught up the sun, decisively moving towards the west. Soon they were going to have sunset.

The pastor showed their left side with a half shaky hand, “There.” He looked shaky too, his expression screaming off unease and worry, and agitation. He was scarred, and for a moment, Amanda pitied the man. Rick was right, the man was a coward, but it wasn’t still crime, at least not yet.

Together they started walking towards the direction had pointed in silence, Rick and her hands dutifully kept away from each other. His hand was already at his holster too, barely touching the butt of Colt Python. Amanda did the same, as well.

The glass-paneled doors of the bank were still holding up, locked as well. Trap, the words flashed in her mind red, and skipping a look at Rick, she saw the same thing over his squared jaw and narrowed eyes. He didn’t say anything though. Abraham came forward with his long iron bolt and forcing it between the winged doors let them in.

Inside the hall of the bank were a bit—more appropriate for the end of the world, as they finally saw dead over the ground. There were five or so people put down permanently over the white floors, the walls sputtered with blood.

They walked down in the hall hurriedly, bypassing the desks and stands, and found the storage room—or found what had been left.

There was a hole in the ground, and Amanda understood the storage facility had been in the basement. Downside, in the room she saw a pool of dark murky waters, rotters roaming in it at the hip level as the pungent smell hit her. Hit her _hard_.

She wasn’t the only one. The sergeant took a step back, rising his arm towards his nose, “Sonofabitch!” he swore under his breath, shaking his head.

Amanda took a step back as well, her eyes wandering down, looking at the murky water. No, not water—the sewage system broken, the basement had turned into a cesspit. A disgusting, stinking, and fitting place for rotters.

The place they needed to go in as well. She let out a sigh. She really should’ve knocked on the wood. “I just found clean clothes—” she muttered under her breath, too, shaking her head.

Beside her, she heard Rick’s low, faint chuckle again, perhaps only to her ears, and when she twisted her neck aside and spied a look, she saw the glimpse of the man in the house again, the man who had been teasing her laughing still inside her as he fucked her senseless, kissing her nicely, flirting with her gently, giving her a pretty necklace. Her lips curved up in a small smile on instinct, “We can use those shelves to block some of ‘em—” Daryl pointed at the shelves that had been parted away from the walls—half inclined down in the waters, also breaking the quick shared moment.

They both turned their eyes downward again, eyeing the interiors. The shelves were creating covers and hide-ins, so it could really work. Rick gave a quick nod, too, “Yeah. Let’s do it—” he said then, moving forward.

A step behind, Amanda threw a last look at the murky water and her new clean clothes and let out a small sigh before she followed him too.

Tomorrow she was going to do some laundry, she decided as she jumped in the murky waters.

# # #

Suppressing the gagging reaction to heave out, Rick bowed his head, grabbing the edge of the shelf closer to him, the smelly, dirty waters around his legs over his hip line. He’d thought no smell of this world would’ve forced him to puke, but he stood corrected.

Mixed with rotting flesh, smell of death, stall air with no freshness, the smell of body waste had created _wonders_. The others weren’t any better, in fact worse. Joan, Sasha, and Bob had thrown out as Amanda had gagged, keeping it inside her barely. Daryl and Abraham were trying to stay reactionless as hard as he was but failing likewise. The pastor—the pastor almost had fainted.

His face was sheet white now—his eyes tightly closed as he grabbed one of the shelves tightly and propped himself against the length of it, his head rested on the metal surface. For a moment, Rick had wished he’d left the man back at the church, but he really couldn’t have trusted him, and he’d wanted to see his reaction.

So far, he hadn’t done anything other than being a nuisance, and an annoying nuisance, which wasn’t still a crime, either, _as long as_ it didn’t hurt any of them. Categorizing actions good or bad wasn’t easy anymore, so like Amanda’s code, Rick had started to categorize them as those that would hurt them or not. The intentions behind still mattered, but there was another saying in his mind, too—the one with the road to hell and good intentions.

The good intentions of Terminus had brought them to hell, and Rick had seen what had happened.

Slowly, they pulled themselves back together, taking covers behind the shelves from the walkers. That was another thing they’d learned as well, quick adaptation. Rick waved a hand around and they started working in their groups as well as one covering their backs, the other filling the backpacks.

Amanda’s backpack was already filled with her new findings, old dirty clothes, and her gifts, so she was stuffing the canned goods at the shelves inside his quickly, not wasting any time.

Rick knew she wanted out of this smelling watery graveyard quickly, making a special effort in the meanwhile to keep her upper waistline untouched by the water as much as possible. He didn’t know the reason, but he just found her ongoing efforts to keep herself still as clean and tidy as possible cute—endearing, trigging the urge in him. But then again, everything with her was arousing him constantly.

He slanted at her a look as she was trying to reach up at the top shelf, rising herself up stepping on the lower shelves. Rick eyed the way her slender body stretched out with a glance—a rotting hand whipped out from the spaces between the shelves and a half stumbling body followed squeezing as he did. Turning aside from her, Rick stabbed the machete in the head. 

The walker dropped down further in the waters, sputtering it around—dark smelly water drops landing on them—at upper waist. Her white linen shirt stained with dark spots, Amanda tossed her head back, still trying to reach out at the top shelf, “I’m fucking hating this!” she fired under her breath.

He almost gave out another low chuck at her annoyed exclamation. He made a move to take the food at the top shelf, nearing toward her but a scream exploded in his ears, and the clang of metal sounds followed as one of the shelves at the others they had used to block walkers fell down—

Rick saw walkers emerging behind, coming at them as the pastor fell in the waters as well with screams. Rick took a sprint—he had no idea what’d happened, but walkers were coming—which didn’t leave any other thought behind.

The sergeant, Sasha and Bob came from the other side too as Daryl shot a bolt at the nearest walker at the pastor. Arriving to the man, Rick pulled the man up and pushed him behind against the shelves at the other side. With the corner of his eyes, he saw Amanda jumping back in the water again, rushing to their sides.

The pastor made a whimper at his back—and sliding a look behind his shoulder, he saw the man staring at one of the approaching walkers, an old woman with dark grey and pink tweed jacket and skirts, a pearl necklace and earrings at her ears. She looked like an old lady—a lady like she’d wore like she was going to the church at Sundays. There was a terrified look over the pastor’s face as well, and Rick realized the man had known her from before.

This wasn’t a trap. The man wasn’t angling anything directing them to here, but he was still hiding something. _You’ll burn for this._ Rick was going to find it later, then they were going to see if it were something would hurt _them_.

Bob fell down in the waters as they killed two of the walkers coming behind—Abraham and Sasha pulling him up, as Amanda and Daryl had killed the walkers. Joan and Rosita were at their other side, their backs at each other. Bob came out, shaking his head, as Sasha frantically asked if he was okay. The medic nodded quickly, agitated—muttering okays.

Rick decided it was the high time to call it a day before today’s luck ran out. “Come on—” he waved at them, “Let’s go—”

“But we haven’t packed up everything!” Amanda protested, turning to him slightly, killing another walker.

He took her elbow and pulled her away, “That’s enough. We got _enough_.” He just wanted to go back to the church and—have a party now—while they still could. “Today's a good day.”

And, Rick wanted it to stay at the same way. Her eyes finding his, she nodded quickly then too, “Yeah, we still got a party to throw.”

“Exactly.”

“Party?” Bob asked beside him, “What party?”

“To celebrate—” Amanda said as they started falling back to climb up the first level as Daryl brought the pastor to their side too, “We found communion wine in the church. So, we thought—” Her eyes moved towards the pastor, but the man didn’t react, didn’t make even a sound, just climb the shelves as they pushed him up.

“We found booze, too!” the sergeant exclaimed behind them, still killing the dead with his bolt, “And some smokes!”

A small, quick smile blossomed out over her lips again as she glanced at him, her eyes sparkling as bright as the crystal necklace around her neck, and Rick knew the reason. “Ah, Rick’s gonna need some of these, sergeant,” she quipped before she jumped out of the smelly dark waters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the party! Finally :)


	44. Chapter 44

**XLIV.**

After the teams had left for the supply run, Glenn and Maggie had started securing the perimeters of the last safe place they’d found. Her hand still bandaged, damaged, not having anything else to do, Beth watched them as they worked.

Even though she tried to hide it, the notion was disturbing her more than anything. They all had a part, a job to do, she always used to say that. Beth had never had a big part of chores, but she was sidelined even more now. Before it hadn’t used to bother her much, but after everything she didn’t want to live what she’d lived again.

The moonlight, the car, the blade, her hand throbbing nailed to the hood of the car came to rush at her all at once, the memory dimming the sounds around her, pulling her out of the present time, but Beth decisively focused on now.

She listened to the drumming sound the big pipes made as Glenn and Maggie bury them in the earth in front of the church’s porch, putting up a line of tranches to blockade the entrance for walkers. The metal was clanging deeply with each stroke as they hammered the pipes down, crisscrossed. It was a hard work, requiring a lot of labor and sweat, so the rest of them who had stayed behind in the church were helping them as well. Except Beth, of course.

The scene was saddening her a bit, too; Beth had always liked church’s organs, the cavern-like, baritone profound gurgles of the pipes, a wonder of sacred melody. Now the pipes were going to protect them against the dead.

Once the thought would’ve really saddened Beth, but now only created a twitch in her chest as she felt herself more irritated not being able to help them. Being useless felt as worse as being helpless.

Her eyes momentarily moved to her maimed hand, but she returned her gaze away. She shouldn’t think like that. She wasn’t useless or helpless. When her father had lost his leg, he hadn’t turned to useless or helpless. He’d fought until his last breath, had believed until the very end.

They were together, like Amanda had said, like her father would’ve said, there was nothing more important than that. Still, Beth would’ve liked to have more to do than sitting down and wait.

 _I don’t do waiting anymore. Tomorrow might be too late,_ she recalled her words to her older friend in the prison when Amanda had come back from her first supply run, bringing her a power bar. She wondered idly if her friend would bring her something from the run this time, too, before she decided life was indeed too short for waiting.

After the prison fall, there was one thing she’d become sure of—the very thing that almost had made her kill herself before at the farm, death itself. It would happen to anyone—anytime. They would live as if it were the last day of their life because tomorrow might be too late.

She didn’t want to die. The desire to live in her still was as strong as after she’d realized how much she wanted to live following her suicide attempt. There were so many things Beth wanted to do before death found her. She wanted to finish writing her song, she wanted to get properly drunk, wanted to learn how to hunt, wanted to shoot Daryl’s crossbow, wanted to swing at least once Michonne’s katana from Carl, wanted to have sex—

God, she really didn’t want to die as a virgin.

A part of her wished she’d done it with Zach. The thought she might’ve lost her virginity that way still hurt her, even worse than almost getting raped part or the throbbing pain in her hand. Worse, there was that reality, too, that it might happen again. There were no guarantees in the life anymore. Even though she didn’t die, her first time still might be forced on her. She at least shouldn’t let that happen. She wanted that still to stay as her choice.

Though, she didn’t know how to do it.

So as the time being, she’d chosen to suppress it down. They were together now, they’d found each other. Nothing was more important than that, and in time, everything was going to be okay. She had to believe it, then later—

Her eyes moved towards the newcomers, Riccardo and John as they helped Glenn and Maggie. Riccardo had tried to flirt with her a bit today, Beth had realized with surprise. She didn’t know how the feeling had made her feel at first. It’d been so long since she’d had flirted with anyone, but perhaps… Her gaze lingered on the boy. He was around Noah’s age, a couple years of older than Beth. He got handsome features and good manners. Both of them seemed eager to be a part of their group, too, coming to help Glenn and Beth first, trying to prove their worthwhile, so maybe—really.

Life was too short, and Beth really didn’t want to wait.

Or stand aside and watch, for that matter.

She should do something, too. Everyone aside the kids was doing something. Noah and Carl were bringing the pipes from inside, Carol was with the kids. Everyone had a part, a job to do. With a wandering look around, Beth then decided what she should do. She should watch—look around and see.

They’d told Rick they were going to keep an eye on the things. Perhaps she just should do some cop business again. Amanda had told her she was good with it. She walked hurriedly towards the porch and waved her head at Carl as he carried out a pipe together with Noah, supporting the long tube over their shoulders. She needed a partner, too, like every cop.

There must be a story behind those words. Something she could look for. You’ll burn for this.

For what? Beth questioned. What the pastor had done? Perhaps it wasn’t even him?

Leaving the pipe, resting it against the church’s door, Carl came down to her side. “Is everything okay?” he asked, looking a little bit surprised she’d asked him.

Beth nodded quickly, “Yeah. I want to look around. Let’s make a patrol together.”

Like Glenn and Maggie did, like Rick and Amanda did. She wanted to walk around the church, get into the scene, keep an eye on the things. She wasn’t useless, she wasn’t weak. She didn’t want to be.

With a look almost suspicious, Carl nodded back too. Beth turned aside to Maggie, “We’re gonna check around—” she informed her sister.

Her hands stopping pushing the pipe she was forcing in the ground, Maggie drew up and looked at her, too. For a little while, Beth waited a protest to come, waited her big sister to tell her stay inside, take care of Judith or something like that, but she didn’t do it.

Maggie just nodded, only saying, “We’re staying out of the tree lines.”

They were all. The perimeter checks were only done by the tree line. Beth still knew when they were back, Daryl and Rick were going to make outer checks too, but it was different.

Beth wasn’t stupid. She didn’t have a death wish. She didn’t want to cause trouble too. She’d seen what had happened when Carl had acted stupid. No. She didn’t want to a liability, she wanted to help, be useful. Prove her worthwhile.

She didn’t need too—these were her people, but Beth still wanted to. Her father, even limping hadn’t become a liability. Beth was Hershel Greene’s daughter, too.

She nodded back, “Yeah, sure.”

They started walking, slowly starting their round. “This’s good—” Beth said, glancing at Carl, waving her hand around, “Making a patrol.”

“Yeah—” he said, nodding, because Beth knew he felt the same, as well. When came to think on it, Carl had an affinity to walk around—get lost—a lot. Lori had used to lost him a lot in the farm, Rick always looking after him. “Do you think they really let us go runs or in the woods now?” he asked then. Beth nodded again.

“Amanda wants us to learn it properly,” she answered, “Joan already started.”

“Yeah, but Joan is older than us.”

Beth shook her head, “Amanda doesn’t lie,” she said then because her friend never did. She might not tell you all the time the things you didn’t want to hear, but she never lied. Carl gave a nod at her in return because Beth knew he knew that as well. “Come on—” she told him, urging him towards the back of the church, “Let’s go backyard. I want to look at the scene.”

Carl turned to her, “Do what?”

“Look at the scene—” she told him, “Amanda brought me to the crime scene in the prison when Karen and David were killed. We read the trails together, find cues,” she explained further, “I want to do it again. There’s a story there,” she stated then, “I want to look at it.” She wanted to solve it.

Carl gave her a sudden small smile, “It’s our scene, right?” he asked her back, “We found it first.”

Beth nodded, “Yes.”

They made another turn and started walking back to the church. The backyard was closer to the tree line of the woods, so they kept a straight line before they arrived. The backside of the church seemed like a closed garden, tall trees lining the edges, roots thick and twisted in the ground.

The floor beneath their feet was covered late autumn foliage, soft and dark browns in golden hues, blanketing the ground with muddy earth. It’d been a while since the last time it rained but the earth beneath them was always wet with humidity. She wondered how it was going to be when the fall rains really started. She briefly wished they could’ve found a real place until that time came. Washington D.C. She’d heard the talks before, the mission and all, but she didn’t know. Things sounding too good were making her tingle with suspicion now. She had no idea when it had happened, but it just happened. I wish I could change.

 _Change isn’t a light switch,_ Amanda’s words echoed in her mind again as Beth carefully walked to the church’s sidings. She looked at the script. It sounded condemning like a curse, containing a hurtful rage inside, but that wasn’t what held her attention. She walked closer and brushed her fingers around the carved letters.

The carving, it was neatly done, precise.

 _When you investigate something or someone, you need to think all the possible angles,_ Beth recalled further Amanda’s lessons; _Every contact leaves a trace._

Her eyes momentarily dropped at her maimed, where her last contact with cruelty had left its trace. There were other traces in her too, deep down unseen, the way Michonne’s sword had fallen on her father’s neck or the little bodies they’d carried out of the D Block at the morning of the flu outbreak.

Here, though, unlike her first crime scene, there was no blood traces to read, but Beth still saw the contact. She turned to Carl, “The words—they sound angry, don’t they?”

Carl nodded. “Pissed and hurt, leaving a message—” she continued, and mused out, “why?”

“Because they felt betrayed?” Carl asked back, going along with her.

“Yeah,” Beth nodded, too, but asked again, looking at the message, “but why?”

She felt like the story was in it. Rick might’ve already found it after they’d showed it to him, but Beth wanted to try her best, too. Amanda always said the practice made it perfect, and this was practice.

Carl shrugged, his eyes on the words, too. “He probably didn’t help them or betrayed them in a time of emergency,” Carl reasoned, “The pastor.”

Beth nodded again, sensing the same, but there was more to it, the script itself was the clue, more than the words. “Yeah, but I don’t think there was any emergency,” she remarked.

After her comment, Carl turned to look at her. Beth shook her head, waving her hand at the script, “Amanda told me every contact leaves a trace. And it does.” She pointed at the script again, “Look. It’s precise.”

Carl gave her another look. Beth let out a sigh, still pointing at the words. “Imagine yourself running for your life,” she started speaking, trying to explain, “Then you stop to leave a message behind—” She paused, “You got only a few seconds. Could you really manage to carve it like this?”

Understanding lit in his eyes, Carl finally saw her point. “They weren’t under attack.”

“No. Perhaps people came for refugee, and he didn’t help them. There’s betrayal, hurt in the words, but no imminent threat. So, they stopped, took their times, carved the words to curse him—slowly, neatly.”

“And that means?”

Beth shrugged this time, “I don’t know,” and admitted. She really didn’t know what it meant. She was just reading the scene. That was what she’d seen. “Rick possibly already saw it, too,” she added. He’d taken the pastor with him to the supply run.

“That was very smart—” Carl complimented her then, and Beth had to admit it felt nice, too. Her cheeks flushed a bit as she took the compliment in silence. Perhaps she was reading too much, perhaps there wasn’t any real story behind it, but Beth still felt like she’d caught something.

And, she couldn’t wait to show it to Amanda, look at it further, bounce ideas together. She wanted to do something, wanted to feel—useful. “I got the best teacher,” she told her friend with a half-lopsided grin. This time it’d come to her easily. “Amanda’s very good with this stuff, and she really wants us to learn.” Her half smile losing, her lips turned an inch downward as she looked at Carl, “You should let her, Carl.”

There was still this tension between them, even though Beth knew Carl had apologized to Amanda before he’d apologized to her. Beth didn’t want it. She didn’t want anything from that night stay between them. The real reason of the tension between them wasn’t directly from that night, either, he possibly still needed time as Maggie had before Beth was born, but they didn’t have time.

Life was too short. “I know—” Carl said as if he really did too, “I just—” He shook his head, “I don’t know. She’s cool, but I still don’t like it.”

Beth paused for a second then remembered what Amanda had said before too, “She told me once a part of growing up is accepting things we aren’t happy with,” she remarked thoughtfully, looking at her friend.

Beth hadn’t realized the words truly before, but she did now. They were so many things Beth hadn’t wanted to accept as they were, either. Sometimes she still asked herself—why, why all this cruelty, why all this ugliness, but the truth was what Amanda had told her too; they’d tried to hurt them simply because they’d thought they could’ve. Beth wasn’t still happy with that truth, but now, she had accepted. Some people were just bad, slaves to their own gratifications with deaf ears and muted hearts.

Out of sudden, breaking through her musings, motor engine grumbles reached to them over the metal clangs. It’d been a while since the last time Beth had heard those sounds, the vibrating buzz of the civilization in her eardrums. Cars. Their heads whipped to left, toward the front yard where the sounds were coming from.

They’d come back. “They returned—” Carl acknowledged the same, too.

Together they started walking back to the church’s porch. Beth knew they were going to look for vehicles at the town, and it seemed they’d succeed. She was glad. Wherever they decided to go after the church, Beth would prefer going there with cars.

Before they arrived the front yard, the engines had stopped, and the metal clangs as well, and Beth saw them already emptying two station wagons she couldn’t recognize the models. One of them was red, the other was blue. They didn’t look old, either, which was another relief too. What was much of relief, though, the cars were full.

Carl sprinted at their side as they took out many backpacks, crates of food and sacks. There was a stir around them, something Beth felt run through her, as well. So, so many bags and sacks. Coming closer, she inspected the crates—canned fruits, jams, beans… She even saw a jar of Nutella, which almost made her faint.

Smiling, she rushed to take one of the smaller crates, but Maggie shook her head. “It’s fine—“ her bigger sister told her gently, shaking her head as she reached over her shoulder to take the crate Glenn was handing her out of the trunk of the red car, “we got it.”

Stepping aside to give her away as Maggie took the crate, Beth scowled. She opened her mouth to say she didn’t lose both of her hands, she still could help, but before she could, Amanda suddenly showed up from the other side of the car, handing her a black backpack. “Here take this. It’s ours. We found clothes and stuff.”

She was clad in new clothes, too Beth noticed, skinny jeans and a leather jacket over a white shirt. Though, they still looked dirty, and they smelled, even worse than before, if possible. Beth realized they’d run across another problem during the run, but then again even though she’d never been in one, Beth knew no supply run ever went smoothly. They all had come back, brought back a lot of supplies, so all was well.

Coming closer to take the backpack with her good hand before she walked inside the church, Beth also noticed the yellowish bruises under Amanda’s shirt’s collar, trailing along her long neck as her sister and her friend shared a glance, which Beth ignored. They’d started doing that a lot too. She knew they were worried about her, but she was fine. She was going to be okay. A part of her wanted to tell them that too, tell them to stop worry about her, tell them bad things happen to people all the time. She’d accepted that, too—another truth of life she wasn’t happy about.

Her mother had died, her brother had died, Otto had died, Patricia had died, Jimmy had died, Zach had died, her father had died—Ignoring their looks, Beth continued walking inside. When she came back outside, Rick was pulling a small round metal table out of the blue car’s trunk.

Beth stared at it, standing at the porch’s steps as Amanda took a folding chair from the car beside him, “What’s this?” Maggie asked, her eyes on the table and chairs.

Amanda shrugged, resting the chair against the car before she took out another one, “Found them in the city center,” the older woman answered then twisting her head aside she looked at the work Maggie and Glenn had done while they’d been away.

Rick had started carrying the table over the church without a word, “Are these pipes?” Amanda asked, her gaze still on the deconstructed parts of musical instrument that were erected out of the ground in front of the porch now.

Picking up the half-way asked question, her sister nodded, her eyes moving towards the pastor who had just walking around from the other car, “Yeah—”

With that, they all looked at the pastor. The holy father approached to them, his face distraught, paper white. Beth had seen him in the exact way stepping out of the car, but his expression had become more jaded upon seeing what his church had become in his absence. “I-it-it’s our organ?” the man sputtered out forcefully, the same distraught over his face in his voice, “You did this?”

Maggie’s face closed off, “We need to have secure the entrance—”

The pastor gave her a look as Rick disposed the table over the porch beside her, still uninterested with the debate. Amanda let out a small sigh, “That’s sad—” she remarked, “I was hoping we could use it for a bit of music tonight—”

Beth looked down at Amanda as the rest of them who had stayed at the church did, while the others kept carrying the stuff they’d brought, except Rick who drew up over the round table, shaking his head. “No. No music—” he told her, fixing a look down at her from the porch, too, “We stay quiet.”

“What’s happening?” Beth asked, leaning over the railings.

Craning her neck up, Amanda threw at her a half smile, “A party—” she almost exclaimed in a brazen way, “We’re gonna have a real fun time tonight—” she stopped as Rick tossed at her another look beside her from the porch, “No music and no one is getting drunk,” she quickly added, glancing back at Rick.

Well, then it was hardy party then. What a pity. Beth really wanted to get drunk, experience the intoxication everyone talked about. The redhead sergeant pulled out another crate from the other car, “Loosen up, folk—” the muscular man pushed the crate up over his head, “We found a Macallan 25. It’d be a blasphemy not to give it justice.”

Beth had no idea what a Macallan 25 was, but she’d gathered it was something she would like to taste from another exchange passed between Amanda and Rick. Her older friend gave their leader a closed lipped small smile, trying to look innocent, the same kinds Beth had used to throw away at his father whenever she got caught doing something she shouldn’t have supposed to in another life.

Beth stepped down from the steps and came beside her friend. “Carl and I—we found something—” she started retelling, but Amanda cut her off.

“I know. Rick told me—” Her eyes slanted toward the pastor. “Let’s go inside.” Understanding she wanted to keep it in secret, Beth nodded quickly.

Amanda began climbing the steps and Beth followed her back to the porch, then she saw Carl at her heels as well. Upon noticing it, Amanda’s lips loosened a bit, walking by him she exchanged another glance with Rick before they dived inside the church. Inside the older woman led them toward the corner beside the management office. Like in the little cabin, Mika and Judith were resting now over the coach inside the office, so Beth wasn’t surprised to see Amanda had chosen this corner to occupy from them.

She knelt down beside the backpack Beth had carried inside a few minutes ago and unzipped it. “Rick told me you saw a script at the backyard—” she told them, rummaging through her bag, “You’ll burn for this.”

Both nodded, “Yeah, but I think there’s more to it.” She half-lifted her head from the backpack to give them a look. Beth continued, “I saw the script. It was too neat, precise. Whoever wrote it, they weren’t in a hurry,” she explained further, “They had time.”

Her hands on the zip of the bag, the female police officer nodded, “Yeah. We thought he didn’t let people in when they came to for shelter. People follow patterns when they’re afraid or panicked, want to have a sort of familiarity of their world.” She paused, “We saw an old lady inside the food bank, a rotter. The father almost had a heart attack when he saw her. Rick believes he used to know her.”

Beth nodded thoughtfully, “She must be one of those who came here,” she mused out, “But he didn’t let them in, so they took refuge in somewhere else.”

“Yeah—” Amanda said, bowing her head to her backpack, “Possibly.”

“So, what do we do?” Carl asked.

She shook her shoulders, lifting her head up toward them again, revealing her bruises further. Beside her, Beth noticed Carl’s lips tightened. “I don’t know,” Amanda said back, “I don’t think he meant any malice. I guess he was just afraid.”

“He—he should’ve helped them!” Beth protested. It was wrong!

Amanda shook her head with a small sigh, “Maybe, but we all did things,” she repeated Rick’s words, “looked at the other side.” She halted, swallowing, and Beth understood the reason.

Carl frowned, “Does Dad know about this?”

“He said being a coward still isn’t a crime” she answered nodding, “Nevertheless, soon we’ll leave,” and continued quickly, “We got food and cars now. Sergeant Abraham wants to go D.C. and Noah wants to go back to his home. It’s close to D.C. We’ll accompany him there.” She paused, turning her eyes at Carl again, “Your father kinda said yes.”

“Kinda—?” Carl asked, his eyes momentarily catching her neck again before he moved his eyes away.

“Well, he said we should talk about it more in details,” Amanda said back, “but he didn’t oppose the idea.”

“So we’re leaving?” Beth asked. Her older friend gave another nod, “And then?” Carl questioned further.

“And then—” Amanda heaved out a bigger sigh this time, repeating him, “Well, we’ll see, I guess.” She bowed her back before she restarted rummaging through the backpack’s contents. She hadn’t only asked them inside to talk about the pastor or what they’d found at the backyard, Beth then realized. Like her first run with Rick and others, her friend had brought back a gift again, but something was telling her this time Beth wasn’t the only one.

“Uh—we cleared out a few town houses—” She waved her other hand over herself indicating her clothes, “I found these then had to jump into a piss…a literal piss. The sewage system was broken down in the storage room of the food bank.”

Beth winced, “Sounds like you had fun.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow morning I’m going to that stream we found the pastor the first thing.”

Beth laughed lightly, “Yeah. I could use a bath myself, too.”

Her head still crestfallen, Amanda smiled, too, her hands still fumbling inside the backpack, “I know.” Then she paused and took out her hand, craning her neck up, “Here this’s for you—” She handed her a silver charm bracelet, one of the prettiest thing Beth had ever seen, “Pretty isn’t it?” she asked, “Thought you’d like it more than a power bar.”

A power bar was a power bar, but when it was finished, it was finished. This—Beth could always carry. She took it with a smile, “Yeah. Thank you.”

With a gentle smile, Amanda returned it then brought out a book. Twisting aside a bit, she extended it toward Carl, “It’s not a comic book but sounds interesting,” she remarked with a small voice as Carl took it hesitantly.

Beth tried to keep a smile inside her. It felt like normal, like in the prison—Zach bringing her silly things he’d found around, Michonne bringing Carl comic books from the runs, “Thanks—” Carl murmured, taking a step forward with one foot to take it from her as he bent down. He turned the back cover to read the summary as Beth came closer to him too.

She peeked at the cover over Carl’s shoulder—well, it really sounded…interesting. “Did Rick pick it up?” she asked, laughing, lifting her head up at Amanda as she pulled upright.

Remember. Survive. Run. Amanda smiled back at her further, “Actually it was me.”

Carl lifted his head to look at her. She shrugged, pointing at the book, “It says bestsellers.”

Carl dropped his arm down at his side, “I already read it.”

“Oh.”

Beth tossed a glare at her friend as Amanda’s shoulders sagged an inch, the word leaving her word almost devasted, “I—”

She cut off the older woman, giving another look at Carl, “But you don’t mind reading it again, right?” she asked pointedly, “You read the same issue of Batman countless times.”

Carl shrugged, “Yeah. It was good. Wouldn’t mind reading it a second time.”

Amanda nodded. Beth almost heard a sigh leaving her, “Uh—I used to re-read books, too.” She paused, “Can—can I borrow it after you finish?” she asked, and quickly added, “There’re others too—so you shouldn’t hurry up—”

Carl handed her the book, “You read it first.”

Amanda shook her head, “No-no—” Coming between them before they became even more awkward with each other, Beth took the book from Carl, “Okay, I read it first,” she quipped, “Don’t fight.”

They all started laughing then. “Did you bring things for others too?” Beth asked then, holding the book.

Amanda gave another nod, “I found a doll for Mika, and look for a toy or a baby book for Judith but couldn’t find anything,” she said, a trace of dissatisfaction entering into her tone before she paused, “But got an idea. When your hand gets better, we could draw a book together and carve a toy from wood.” She turned to Carl, “Wanna help?”

Carl nodded, “Yeah, sure.”

“Don’t have anything for Maggie and Joan?” Beth asked then, narrowing her eyes, skipping friends wasn’t like Amanda, but she shook her head, “Got another thing for them, too—” she brushed it off, turning around, “Gotta go. We should get prepared before Rick changes his mind—” she said over a smile before she walked away.

They watched her leave the church, then Beth turned to Carl, “Come on, let’s go find others too.” She paused, “I really want to get drunk tonight.” She turned to him, “Have you ever gotten drunk, Carl?”

Her younger friend shook his head, “No. Dad doesn’t let me drink.”

“Maggie doesn’t, either—” Beth said back, then paused, “Amanda let me take a sip at the hospital.” She slanted him a look and smiled at him, “You know I got a feeling she’d let us at least taste that Macallan thing if you ask _nicely_.”

# # #

Flickering candlelight washed the church’s interiors with a gentle light. The joyful bristling chirpings around them as they enjoyed a relaxed night over drinks and food were like millions of fireflies buzzing in a warm summer night as the experience transformed her last memory under the candlelight in another chapel like this to something else, something better—happier, and Amanda was fucking glad of it.

Shared pain was truly lessened, shared joy increased, and she didn’t even care how damn cheesy the saying sounded a bit. Misery might love company, but Amanda had begun to realize that joy wasn’t so different at all. Wine was good, Macallan 25 sherry oak was even better, far—far better, and they got food in their bellies, and clothes –still dirty—at their backs, and a roof over their heads for the night.

It just felt like heaven on earth. She raised her head up, looking at the colorful tinted glasses, light flickering over them, the low beat of conversations reverberating in her— _hope strings eternal in the human breast._ Her mind was fuzzy, and she felt like something humming inside her, too, bursting. She wondered if it was also a byproduct of her feelings, everyone said that love made one feel head above the clouds. She definitely felt head above the clouds now. Bowing her head, Amanda gazed at the amber liquid in her hand. Or, she was getting drunk.

Oops.

Nevertheless, Sergeant Abraham was a very generous soul. In exchange of three condoms, she’d made a deal with the sergeant: half of the cigarette package and four shots from the finest drink. In these days, condoms were a really rare commodity. She guessed it couldn’t have been exactly categorized as a good people thing, but all in frankness, Amanda didn’t care all that much about the ex-soldier. She was also fine with deals.

His generosity, though, was certainly to get her at his corner, trying to buy her affections, and truth be told, she started feeling a bit she was getting caught up in the game. For different reasons. She’d saved the two glasses for Beth and Carl, telling herself a shot wouldn’t have made them _that_ drunk, so she was still heeding Rick’s warnings. The teenagers had just cornered her at the start of the evening, asking her if she would get them a shot from the whisky, and Amanda had found herself nodding.

Was she trying to buy Carl’s affections too with books and drinks? She just wanted the boy to like her—she wasn’t trying—Okay, perhaps a bit...

God, she probably should stop drinking right now.

She’d helped herself abundantly with wine before she switched to whisky, saving it for the last. She’d then taken Rick outside, under a tree at the backyard like the last time they’d taken a break. While they’d enjoyed the fine drink, they’d also smoked and made out a bit, French kissing and groping. It felt she was back at high school, except that she’d hardly sneaked away with guys in the parties to make out. Amanda had been a virgin until she’d started at Academy, then she’d gotten rid of it at the start of her first semester out of necessity. She’d tried a bit of clubbing sub-culture for a while then, even got a tattoo herself over her left ankle in a drunken night but understanding it was just too…loud for her, she’d pulled back into her own territory; the gym or the library. She was never a big fan of hangovers, too much of a hassle just to let it go. It’d been those times too she’d discovered the power of sex, the almost therapeutic effect of a release that kind and even though she’d given up on clubbing long ago, that part had stuck with her.

Under the tree, the same thrill had been with her again, to have Rick inside her, feel his laughter vibrating in her depths. They were so fucking good at it; the knowledge was still bristling inside her fiercely.

But they couldn’t have dared to have another round outdoor, so panting—heaving deeply, they’d had to stop, Amanda wondering again how it really would’ve been spending a whole night with him alone. She wished she could find out soon—very soon, for both their sakes.

After they’d come back inside, she’d left Rick to look for Maggie and Sasha, to share her stuff this time with people she cared whilst debating with herself if she would spare a few for Joan as well. Rick had said she might’ve wanted it, although Amanda had her doubts. Regardless, the former nurse might like to have an option if it came to that.

Perhaps that would come to Joan good, taking back the matters at her hands after what Gorman had forced on her. Maybe she needed that, getting back the control. Moreover, Amanda needed to talk with her friend what she and Rick had talked today about to go to Noah’s home.

She wandered her eyes around, looking over the clusters of people divided in small groups—Rick was with Greene-Rhee clan as Daryl was sitting close to them, their backs rested against the wooden railings that separated the hall from the aisle and the altar of the pulpit. The candles were all around them lit placed on the ground. Rick was holding Judith across over his knees, playing with the baby, smiling at her fondly, his head dipped.

It was one of those rare times again Amanda had started seeing more. Suddenly the scene reminded her the first time how she’d seen him with Judith when he’d brought her to the prison, and her dream from days ago found her too—the way he stood against a barred window, Judith in his arms, fading sunlight falling on them through the bars… Candlelight swept them this time as Amanda remembered, staring at them, her legs suddenly rooted in the ground, two scenes overlapping each other—

A tremble passing over her, Amanda tore her eyes away, and took a big gulp from her drink. It must be hormones and the stress of the last days, she told herself before she turned around to continue looking for Joan. Sasha and Bob were with Sergeant Ford’s crowd as Beth and Carl were sitting with Riccardo and John. Even from afar, Amanda could read the tension between them in the air, but both Carl and Beth seemed relaxed, possibly thanks to the marvelous amber liquid. The young teenager had a small but relaxed smile over her face, earnest, and the sight of it was lessening a tightness in Amanda’s chest. That was how they were supposed to look like, not holding that fake smile or vacant looks.

She twisted other side and found Joan with Carol and Mika, sitting one of the prayer benches at the left side of the front rows. Carol left with Mika as Amanda walked toward them, returning to Daryl’s side. Amanda felt a bit surprised to see Carol with her friend, but Joan’s face was expressionless.

Amanda propped herself against the side of the bench, standing up as Joan kept her place on the bench. Amanda looked down at the younger woman. “What did Carol want?” she inquired, trying to sound natural.

Joan shrugged, “I don’t know.” The former nurse sounded disinterested, “She just dropped by—tried to make small talk.”

Amanda gave a look over whey they were seated in front of the pulpit’s railings, “I heard Daryl and Carol were very close in the prison before,” she remarked slowly and watched Joan as she lifted her head up at her.

Her eyes were keen, too, her gaze inquisitive, reading Amanda’s hidden meaning, but a second later the dark curly haired woman shook her head, “No. She didn’t sound jealous,” she said back placidly, “Just curious.”

“Well, I think a lot of people are—” Amanda said then, and it wasn’t a lie, either. She wasn’t the only one who had become curious, it seemed. “Daryl’s quite a recluse as I understand,” she went on, “You’ve gotten quite closer.”

Joan shrugged again in the same indifferent way, a gesture Amanda had perfected over the years as well, “He’s just teaching me stuff—” her friend brushed it off, but then gave her another look before she declared, “But I know what you mean. I already told him too.”

Amanda’s eyebrows knitted, “Told him what?”

“That I’m not gonna fuck him,” Joan answered openly, “So if he was expecting me to show some gratitude, he would’ve stopped.” She paused, her brows drawing an inch together like Amanda’s, “He said he’s not interested.”

Amanda examined her friend’s expression and laughed, “You sound a bit…pissed.”

The other woman shrugged again, “Do I, don’t I?” she asked back, shaking her head, “You’d have thought I’d be relieved...” She shook her head, “And I am—I’m relieved. I don’t want to fuck him, but rejection—” She hesitated, her eyebrows drawing together further, “I guess I forgot how it makes you feel.”

Amanda wished she could say she didn’t know what Joan had meant, but she guessed not a living person would’ve said that. After she’d ended…things with Michael when he’d started talking about commitment wanting a serious relationship, Amanda had felt a tad bit bad too that he’d just let it go that quick with a few unanswered phone calls, severing all their connection like they hadn’t shared a part of their lives for two years. She knew it wasn’t mature of her, he’d done the best thing for himself, and she was the one who had rejected him, but nevertheless, the feeling had been just there.

But perhaps Daryl would really be good for Joan. He was a good man. Rick really seemed to trust him, which was telling. He’d gone to look for the others in the middle of night at their first night at the funeral home, too—Amanda stopped herself. No. The last time she’d tried to play the matchmaker, it’d turned to a disaster. She would never do it again. She was hardly in a position to give any relationship advice to anyone anyway when she was barely keeping up with hers.

Her relationship.

The word sounded still so—strange—so alien, but Amanda forced the thought away purposely. She was trying a new thing, she told herself, the alienation was understandable, logical, even expected.

Turning back to the matter at the hand, she slipped her fingers inside her tight jeans’ pocket, “In any case I found these today—” she said, taking her hand out and passed two bright packages to her friend, “If you change your mind—you know.” She paused, “Better to be prepared.”

Joan took the condoms, and smiled at her, lifting her head up again. “Are these the reason why there’re these bruises over your neck?” her friend asked with a devilish smirk, her eyes all over her neck. Amanda had caught the silent quick gazes and glances since they’d returned to the church, Carl being the worst. For a second, she wanted to smack Rick’s head, hard. She’d known those were going to draw attention. She’d tried to stop him, but well, like she’d known too, when Rick Grimes lost it, he lost it good. Carl hadn’t made any comment this time, but the way his lips had flattened had told it clearly to Amanda.

Despite everything, despite the books, despite the drinks, Carl still didn’t like that his father was sleeping with another woman.

Perhaps Amanda just needed to accept that as well.

“No comment—” Amanda said, waving an idle hand as she forced her mind away from that thought away, though her eyes still moved towards the teenagers. She couldn’t see Carl, but Beth was watching them now from her place against the railings, her inebriated look having a suspicion that had made her narrow her eyes, her small relaxed smile lost.

Amanda then wondered if she might spare one for her too. Beth was finishing up her seventeen, she—she might want to try it. Today that new Italian boy had flirted with her, Amanda had caught it. There was a disturbance in her, though, the idea not fitting well with her. She didn’t exactly know the reason. Amanda had never been a prude, but it didn’t sound right—not after everything had happened. Quite frankly, she wasn’t even sure how Carl might feel with that, his crush and all, and she was a bit scared that it might come back to bite her ass, deepening the chasm between her and the teenager.

Being a teenager in this world must have sucked. She hoped Noah’s town had a better _younger_ populace at least, which brought up the other reason why she’d sought out her friend. “I talked with Rick today,” Amanda started, leaving off condoms and relationship stuff this time for good, real issues. They got priorities, that shouldn’t change no matter how many new things they might want to try, “About going to Noah’s home,” she clarified, “He isn’t fond of the idea, but he’s on board if Noah wants to do it.”

Joan nodded, and questioned further, “And about the cure?”

Amanda shook her head, “I don’t know,” she said back, “Let’s find a real roof over our heads first.” All in honesty, Amanda was finding in herself the urge to go and check it, too, perhaps she was being just a cheap date, bought with a few drinks and nice words, or she was just being—heads above the clouds… One step at a time, she reminded herself inwardly again, slowing down. The words were becoming fast her life motto.

Leaving the younger woman at the bench, Amanda walked toward Maggie. She guessed she could do it tomorrow, but she was remembering another saying too, _there’s no better time like now._ Besides, with all the booze and downtime, she had a feeling that tonight they might need a better contraception method than just the ol’ coitus interruptus.

When she arrived their corner, she saw Judith with Carol as the older woman had come to their group after leaving Joan, and Rick was nowhere to be found. She turned and started looking as if she was on automatic pilot as the same time Rick left the management office with the pastor. The cleric was walking a few steps behind him, his dark olive face turned to ash, tears stains over his cheeks, his eyes red-rimmed. His expression was even worse, there was fright over the grey—scare, and something else…like shame. Ah.

Amanda realized the father had confessed his _sins_. Combined with what Beth had informed her, Amanda had completed the picture. There’d been hardly any mystery in it, just someone who had wanted to live a day longer, just like them. She still couldn’t sense any real malice in the pastor, not like the men in the woods or Terminus.

Both Rick and she had cop’s institution, that tingling over your skin, the disturbance like invisible waves moving in the air, prickling at you. The shameful look, the regret that Amanda had seen underneath his scare wasn’t a play, but like he’d told her countless times, Rick wasn’t taking any chances anymore, and like Amanda herself had said million times, it was always better to be cautious than sorry. Amanda knew bad people from good ones, but some people were good players, too, being an orphan had taught her that even before she’d become a cop. You could never truly know what lay inside their hearts.

As Rick walked toward them, Amanda paced to him to intersect his way. He stopped, seeing her as the pastor went to the other direction. “Had a talk?” she asked, pointing at the cleric.

Rick gave her a half nod, his eyes still following his back, “Yeah—” He turned to her, “Exchanged a few words.”

“Hmm—"

“He said he always locked the doors at night,” he continued, “They came for shelter, but he didn’t let ‘em in, got scared. He said it was just before Atlanta bombings. Then the dead came. The old woman in the food back was one of them.” He looked around, his eyes wandering inside the church, “He said we’re his punishment.”

She snorted out faintly, shaking her head, “Maybe, but he’s still lying,” she stated. All things considered, the pastor was a terrible player, and it was a good thing. Rick nodded. “The dead didn’t come or just came later. When they carved that thing, there was no dead involved yet.” She looked at him, “Beth and Carl told me the script was very neat.”

“I know,” Rick said back, “I saw it, too.” He paused, “Did Beth and Carl notice it?”

She nodded affirmative, “Yeah. They read the scene.” She smiled at him a bit, “They both would’ve made good cops, you know.”

She’d meant it as a bit joke and compliment, but Rick’s face suddenly got old, weary. He shook his head, “Carl has been always curious, too much curious.” A small sigh left his lips, “He used to drive Lori insane running away.”

She forced herself not to get tense at mention of her name, keeping her face neutral. Was there a…longing in his voice or was it only her imagination? The way he’d moaned her name in his coma came back at her, the way he’d admitted he still loved the woman, a snickering voice echoing a fool inside her, but dutifully Amanda forced all of them away from her thoughts, too.

She made a brief gesture with her shoulders, “Like the father, like the son,” she muttered, turning her eyes away to look at the church. Their people were still enjoying their well-earned good night.

Rick followed her gaze over the seas of buzzing conversation, warm flickering candlelight, and when he spoke his low voice came like it was from a distant place, “I would’ve left him there to walkers too if it wasn’t you or Carl—” he admitted, staring ahead, “I still want him to stay good, Amanda.”

A myriad of emotions twirled inside her through a haze, her heart beating madly at her eardrums... _I guess we’re not too far gone yet_ , his words echoed through the haze. She tried to quell down herself, bringing the glass at her lips, possibly a bad idea as well… “I know—” she said, turning her eyes at him, “He’s good, Rick.”

She took another sip as Rick looked at her as well. “So what did you say him?” she questioned. She knew he had. After those words in the woods when they’d met, and Rick had given to her a quick talk, too, and had meant each word. _If you try something again, you won't live long to regret it._

“What matters to me the most,” he answered with his blunt openness whenever he’d made a decision, “if he puts us in any kind of jeopardy, I’d kill him.”

She stayed in silence for a second, then bringing the glass over her lips again, she slowly said, “I think we just need to leave.”

He gave her a look, and Amanda almost waited a half snort as well for her…solution, but instead his hand reached to her drink, “That’s enough for you tonight—” Amanda let him to take the glass from her fingers. She knew the notion should’ve bugged her, the way he’d handled her like a child, but she just couldn’t bring herself care… God, she _really_ must be getting drunk… “Tomorrow,” he went on, “We talk, then see what we do.” He paused, “I think it’d be best if we go and check around first, see what kind of people they’re first.”

“We can take Noah too to breach the contact,” she said back, nodding along, forming a plan, “That way we might look like less threatening too—” Her eyes found his again, but this time Amanda gave him a careful look over, assessing him, and her gaze catching the slight reflection over the glass. She liked this rough, edged look over him, it sort of suited Rick, but nevertheless, they still looked like shit. God, she was even stinking.

She wondered briefly if Rick had smelled her while they’d sex, she had—but hadn’t been bothered, even liking it, sort of—Rick’s odor, mixed with forest, sweat, blood, and everything else of him… “We go to the stream at the morning—” She dipped her head, “and clean up. We shouldn’t go there like this. We’re stinking.”

Rick sighed. She lifted her head up, “First impressions, Rick. We want to make a good impression, remember?” She waved a hand, “You still look like shit.”

He shook his head at her, “Like always, my dear, you just know how to make a man feel appreciated.”

A small smile blossomed out over her lips before she knew it, and briefly Amanda wondered how much it would take Rick to call her that with that teasing tone, a laughter in his eyes. It was even better than Mandy. When he’d called her with her nickname, something had swooned in her, even surprising her, and she’d barely managed to keep up a front.

His eyes glinting, Rick took a step forward, “Sleep with me tonight—” he told her, his eyes on hers, “We take Mika and Judith, and sleep together.”

For a brief moment, Amanda played with the idea before she’d remembered Carl’s look over her neck. She shook her head, “No. Carl still frowns whenever he sees us together, and your _bruises_ don’t help it either—” She looked him pointedly, “I told you not do it, Rick.”

His hands brushed hers as he leaned on her further, “I guess I just need to suck you in the places no one but me can see…” he whispered at her.

Amanda trembled, visibly. His eyes finding hers, Rick gave out a dirty low chuckle. She took a step back to collect herself, giving him a look, “Okay, you had your fun.” She shooed her hand at him, “Off you go. I need to speak with Maggie.”

“Why?” Rick asked, a slight frown immediately appearing over his brows, “What happened?”

Amanda almost pulled his leg, the way he’d just teased her, but decided against it. She wasn’t sure if it was a good time to be in his close proximity right now. Her head was turning, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the drinks. “Nothing. Just girl talk. You know—” she waved her hand, “Sharing time.”

“Ah—” he said back, understanding, “A’right then.” He paused, “Remember, the half ‘s still ours.”

She smiled her lips closed, bobbing her head, another tremor passing over her as Rick left her, going out. He’d already made a tour around the church _twice_ to make sure everything was in order. She half thought of telling him he was exaggerating, that there was nothing wrong outside, but they both knew it would’ve been a lie. So Amanda kept her mouth shut as the wooden entrance door closed behind him then she turned her gaze back at the church.

Her eyes passed over the crowd, she quickly spotted Maggie standing with Sasha and Rosita this time, away from their own clan. As the time had passed, they’d started mixing the groups as well, the booze helping to break the ice more. Amanda half listened to the slurred words and swaying legs as they chatted either sitting on the wooden floor or standing up in the corners—candlelight casting shadows along the walls as it flickered over their faces.

She let us the buzz wash over her for a second again before she spotted everyone—everyone except Rick and the pastor. She’d then realized she hadn’t seen the cleric again after he’d left the management office with Rick. She scowled a bit. The man possibly was hiding at the backyard, away from them. For a second or so, Amanda almost pitied the man before she started walking toward Maggie.

Pity also didn’t long live in this world.

She stood a few steps away from the little girl-group, gesturing with her head. Maggie narrowed her eyes an inch, but leaving her company came to Amanda’s side. Amanda brought them further away then, too, to have more privacy.

"Hey, whassup?" the older Greene asked as they stood at an empty corner, close to the door, "Is everything okay?” The younger woman paused, “I saw Rick leaving again.”

Amanda shook her head, “Just a routine patrol,” she said in return, “You know him. I wanted to give you something."

Maggie beamed up, "A gift for me, too?" she asked back, "I saw Beth's bracelet. It’s very pretty."

"Um—sorry, no—” Amanda answered, “I wanted it to be special for Beth, so left the rest at the house. But found these—" she told her, pulling out a pair of condoms from her other pocket. “It’s not much but—”

Smiling shyly, Maggie cut her off, "No.” the younger woman declined, pushing gently her offered hand, “Keep 'em."

And, Amanda stared... "Uh—" she breathed out, fisting the condoms in her palm to hide the sight as she caught Beth’s gaze finding them again with the corner of her eyes, “Glenn doesn’t like it?” she asked and regretted it as soon as the question left her mouth.

What—what was wrong with her? When she’d become this much noisy about people’s sex life? _Glenn doesn’t like it?_ She half expected Maggie snap at her to mind her own business, but the older Greene shook her head.

"We—we were sort of trying in the prison," Maggie then stated as Amanda stared—this time, perhaps even her mouth hung on open a little bit. Maggie’s big blue eyes found her light green eyes, "I want more, Amanda, more than this…” the younger woman told her with a small voice, her eyes leaving hers wandering around the church, but she wasn’t talking about where they were now.

Amanda still stared. Maggie heaved out deeply, "Do you think I'm mad?" she asked then.

Coming to her senses, Amanda shook her head again. "No... No—" she said, "I—I just—" she trailed off, failing to find words, even failing to think...

More… A part of her understood, even she was trying a new thing, not just her ‘I prowl, scavenge, and kill rotters’ thing. Her life had always had the same routine even before the outbreak. She'd always liked comfort zones, the certainty in it, no blurred lines, everything labelled and precise. She felt like she could…broaden her horizon a bit more too, at least she wanted to try, but a baby?

A baby? Bringing an innocent little angel in this rotting world? Did they really want _that_? It just blew her away. She liked Judith, she would kill—die for her without a blink, but she could’ve never understood how Rick and his wife had wanted to have a baby. Being the way Rick was it didn’t even sit on well with him. Her best guess was that it'd been a stray bullet, much probably how Amanda had been conceived, as well, a moment of bad luck. Then they’d decided to keep it for some unfathomable reasons, much like how her mother had. It hurt her to think Judith coming to life like this, but it was still better than the alternative.

Because her worst guess was, Rick's wife—Lori, she corrected herself, she would start at least thinking of the woman by her name in _her_ _head_ —had wanted to make things better with Rick, and did what women all over the world had been doing for years to salvage their sinking marriages in desperation; got pregnant. She didn't know if the woman had that much a devious, manipulative mind, especially how unselfishly she'd given up her own life to save Judiths', but nevertheless, her point was still the same. She just couldn't see anyone bringing a baby into this world willingly.

It was dangerous, both to the child and to the woman. She understood the natural call, too, and _yes_ , just seeing Rick playing with Judith half of an hour ago had made something twinge in her chest, and there was her dream, too, but it didn't change the bottom line.

It was selfish. They couldn't even find a book or a toy for Judith. Had been feeding her with acorns and berries for days. Every time there was a rotter in the same radius with Judith, Amanda was almost losing her mind on the possibilities. "I—I don't know, Maggie," she tried to say what she felt without sounding a bitch, "I love Judith. She's the best thing I've ever seen in a long time, but bringing a child into this world—" She paused to try to find suitable words, then settled with what she’d thought, "I feel it's selfish."

Instead of backlash she'd been fearing from the younger woman, Maggie nodded ruefully, "I know," she admitted, "We fear the most for our loved ones, but I don't want to live in fear anymore, Amanda. This isn't a living." That Amanda had to admit, too, "The cure—" the younger woman continued then, but this time shaking her head, Amanda cut her off.

"You can't decide something like this depending on that—" Amanda objected fiercely, taking a step further, "What if it isn't real, what if it doesn't work?" She shook her head, "We don't know anything."

Maggie paused, "I know I can't live like this.”

The words hurt her more than a bullet. "Please—" She tried to find a common ground, "At least wait until we find a real place.” She almost told the woman what had happened the last time, too, but held it back. Maggie had been there, obviously she didn’t need Amanda to remind her that. So instead she told the younger woman what she’d told Joan, “I talked with Rick. Noah wants to go to his home. Rick said okay."

Maggie looked at her, “And the cure?”

Did everyone really want to go to D.C? She wondered what would’ve happened when the time finally came, and Rick finally made a choice. Amanda knew even though the sergeant would come with them to Noah’s home, at the end he would leave—just like they’d thought at Terminus. If Rick opted to stay back, what the others would’ve decided? They’d been waiting Rick’s decision, but Amanda could see clearly now that they also wanted to try this, wanting things go back.

 _There’s no going back,_ his words echoed in her, and she remembered her words too to the sergeant… _I might not believe the world could go back, but I wouldn’t mind it turn a bit better than it is now._

That Amanda really wouldn’t mind. Pressing further, Amanda handed her condoms again, forcing out a smile, "Until then—" Maggie first stood undecided then slowly relented and took the condoms. “Give those to Sasha, too, please—” Amanda said further, handing her another pair. She felt like she couldn’t take another ‘girl talk’ tonight. She’d never been close with Sasha, too, but she was still Tyreese’s sister, the man who had walked in a bullet for her. Amanda could’ve never gotten a deal out of her for anything.

Maggie let out a half snicker, “You’re like a fairy godmother today.”

Amanda snorted back, “Not for everyone—” she corrected, “Sergeant had to give half of his smokes and four shots from Macallan for three of my pack.”

A slight frown appeared over Maggie’s eyebrows as she looked at her accusingly, “I knew it was you who got Beth that drink!” she grumbled out, and Amanda let the easy banter carry them over, pushing away the talk wanting more and babies vaporizing through the haze. Amanda hoped it was just another kind of heat of the moment and the drinks, and tomorrow morning when the younger woman woke up, she would’ve understood what kind of insanity she’d been thinking.

“Let her be—” she told her back, pointing half with her head where the teenagers sat down in a circle, “She’s having fun.”

Her expression loosening, Maggie nodded, then said, “I guess I should be happy she wants more, too, right?”

Goddammit! The damn word was beginning to become her least favorite word after ‘complicated’.

Then it turned even worse as Maggie turned to her. “How about you, Amanda?” the older Greene questioned, “Do you want more too?” she asked and went on before Amanda could even open her mouth, “Rick’s such a good father,” she remarked with a serious voice, “you’d be such a good mother too.”

Amanda shook her head, almost frantically. Her—being a mother? With Rick?

She was barely managing to keep up with being in a relationship. Very barely. Yeah, she _might_ want to broaden her horizon a bit, but not _that_ much. She wasn’t a wife material. All in frankness, half of her still believed they would fuck this up, and Rick finally would call it an end. He hadn’t wanted it this time, hadn’t let it go when she’d questioned it, but the road that lay ahead them was still going to be bumpy, only a fool would deny it. Amanda was no fool, she had never been.

And why the hell she was thinking about this? She was _almost_ sure Rick hadn’t been aware of Judith’s…conception. “I don’t think Rick would want another kid,” she said tactfully, shifting the topic away from her, “He’s already got two.”

With a pitying look at her, Maggie shook her head. “Sometimes you just talk like you haven’t met with Rick,” the younger woman said back, almost chiding, “Rick’s a very committed man. Whatever he does, he doesn’t do it half-way.”

Amanda nodded, deciding to bail out for real, “Yeah, he’s fully committed to staying alive right now—” she said, and it wasn’t even a lie. It wasn’t like that they’d sat down and had 'where’s this thing going’ talk? No, they’d only had ‘what are we?’ talk before and barely had survived it, and the last time Amanda had had the other talk she got dumped off— technically. Besides, Rick had told her not to break their flow, they needed time to figure out this. She was listening to him.

They stayed in silence for a while, Amanda trying to heed his words, trying not to think of things far ahead before with a last small smile, almost knowing, Maggie left her to find Sasha.

She stood at the corner alone for a couple of minutes, her eyes at the door. A part of her just wanted to go Rick’s side so they would patrol together in a comfortable silence, the cool fall breeze at her face as they paced clockwise around the perimeters. God, it was really hot inside. She felt perspiration wetting her skin, her throat catching, and she missed Rick’s silent but sturdy company. Before she could walk out and find him though, the doors opened. Rick walked in. Amanda let out a snort silently at her corner.

Picking her up, Rick walked toward her. His eyes seized her as she stood supporting her weight on the wall, “Talked with Maggie?” he questioned. Amanda nodded in answer. His eyes narrowed further at her, “You look tired.”

She heaved a sigh. “People tire me,” she said back off-handedly, waving a hand in the air around the church, “Gimme rotters anytime.”

He smiled back at her, “It was your idea, Mandy.”

She let the nickname slip by her again, shaking her head, “Yeah, the next time I got a good idea, just slap me.”

In answer, he leaned on over her and kissed her at the lips briefly. “Sleep with me tonight,” he whispered at her again, much like he’d done before, “I want you in my arms.” She wanted to say no, she wanted to say the last he’d told her the very same thing and she had come, Carl had run away from the cabin, she wanted to say she was confused, she was scared, she wanted to—

She nodded, “Okay.”

God, she was the biggest idiot in the world.

Rick smiled at her again, leaning further before their lips touched each other again, Abraham Ford suddenly let out a loud sound in front of the railings.

Their heads snapped at him, both Rick and she stared as the sergeant stumbled at his feet, standing up.

Amanda wondered how many glasses the ex-soldier had from the Macallan as Rick glared at the man. Even with stumbling feet, the man didn’t look wasted. If rotters attacked now, the heap of muscles would still fight vehemently, but Amanda knew the man was already half drunk.

Amanda didn’t care, he seemed like one of those people who would handle his drink well, but Rick was another matter. His expression turned stiffer as the man cleared his throat, rising his drink up in the air for a salute as Judith gave out a small baby wheeze from Carl’s arms across the room.

“To y’all good folk—” the sergeant said, still holding his had up in the air as Rick crossed the room toward Judith, “You’re all crazy sonofabitches—” he told them fondly with an eased smile, “and we’ve made a damn fine good team!” he rejoiced, stretching out his arm further in the arm, “I drink to us—we earned today this good Macallan.”

A cheer of agreement circled around them as all around the room, their friends and acquaintances raised their drinks as well with a simple, “To us—”

Amanda didn’t have a glass to raise, so she stood motionlessly, watching as Rick took Judith from Carl. He started walking back to her then, his scowl growing more with all the clamor around them.

“But is it enough?” The sergeant asked after he finished his drink, wandering his eyes around them, and Amanda half expected to Rick step in and put it an end, warning them to keep quiet, but he didn’t, either. He just came to her side with Judith.

Abraham Ford’s expression turned to serious then too, “Is that all you want to be?” He waved a hand around, gesturing them, “Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep with two eyes open, rinse and repeat?”

 _I prowl, scavenge, and kill rotters,_ her words were like distant echoes through the haze as Amanda listened to her life in a nutshell. It wasn’t _all_ she wanted to be. She’d already admitted. She—she didn’t want to…rinse and repeat.

Her eyes moved toward Rick and when she looked at him, she found him doing the same too, “’Cause you can do that,” the sergeant continued as Amanda swallowed through a lump in her throat as they turned their looks at the redhead man again, “You got the skill, you got the strength. The thing is, for you people, that’s just surrender.”

Perhaps, it was, but Amanda had never bothered herself with it before, she’d learned not to start fights she couldn’t win even before the basement, even before she’d seen what had been happening there. “We—we can change the world, perhaps things couldn’t go back the way it was before, but we still could change it—for _better_ ,” he emphasized strongly, and his eyes suddenly finding Rick and Judith, he raised his arm with his empty drink and pointed at them, “Not for us, but for her.” He paused for the effect, his eyes still on Rick, even though when he started talking, he addressed them all, “Come with us. Save the world for that little one. Save it for yourself. Save it for the people out there who got nothing left to do except survive.”

An expression shifted across Rick’s eyes and his jaw moved, but it wasn’t tension, no, the sergeant was pitching his idea, and this time Rick was buying it. She wondered if it was her own doing, because if it had been, then she’d really gotten caught up in the game because there was this thing inside her, swelling in her chest—almost making her burst out a big, fat, YES.

She was a sucker, and she didn’t fucking care. She wanted to do this. For Judith, for Mika, for Beth, for Carl, for Maggie, for herself, for Rick… She wanted to do this. Glenn walked out beside the sergeant too, “We can do it—” the Asian man told them with a clear voice, and his eyes found Rick too, “But we only can do it together.”

Rick bowed his head, looking at Judith as his baby girl rising her small hand reached out toward his nose, murmuring out a wheeze, and Rick caught her little hand, and lifted his head. Before he turned his head away, his eyes lingered on hers for a second, and he gave her a small, flickering smile, and Amanda saw the light.

He looked at Glenn and the sergeant, and said, “I think she’s saying yes.”

The laughter of exciment filled around them, and closing her eyes for a fraction, Amanda let it wash over her like waves, and she felt like she was cleansing, a sort of purge, an old ancient ritual, a sort of catharsis not with tragedy, but with joy.

Her lips curved out further and opening her eyes, she found Rick’s as he’d neared toward her with Judith. Amanda reached out and held the baby’s hand too, the warm, plump skin like a ripen fruit, and breathed in her baby smell. She lifted her head and smiled at Rick openly as Carl joined them too.

Carl ignored her, but there was no scowl or tightness across his eyebrows. “We do it, dad?” the teenager asked, as Amanda dropped her hand. All around her, their people were still rejoicing like a beehive, candle lights flickering, Terminus finally becoming a distant, bad memory—like the basement—

“Yes, son, we should try at least—” Rick answered, “For your sister.” He paused, “For you. Y’all deserve more than this.”

The words made her look at him as Amanda lifted her eyes up at him—more than this… Their eyes caught each other again, and Amanda thought—perhaps—perhaps she would broaden her horizon a bit further, too, a bit _more_ …

The next second the doors of the church pushed out open and the pastor rushed inside frantic, looking out of his mind, sweat running from his bald head down over his forehead as he heaved out deeply out of breath—

When he finally managed to speak the following second inside the church, Amanda had already unclinked her holster, Rick doing the same, “The dead—” the man announced forcing the words between the breaths, “The dead are here.”

Amanda first heard the snarls, then at the wooden entrance the dead showed up as well. She didn’t think anything further after that. She just raised her gun and shot at the first rotter she aimed.

 _I prowl, scavenge, and kill rotters,_ her voice flashed inside her through the gunshots, but Amanda pressed it down. There were a lot of them, pouring out of the open doors—being the closest ones to the door, Maggie, Glenn and the sergeant sprinted forward to close it—

It happened too fast—too fucking fast, Amanda almost couldn’t see it—

A scream pierced the air like a bullet, and she realized it was her own, “MAGGIEEE—!”

But it was too late—all too late… Too fucking late. _I know I can't live this,_ the words echoed through a foggy emptiness, the world dimmed... lights flickering off... 

Amanda blinked—

A decaying hand caught Maggie before Glenn could reach, and a rotting mouth sunk into her neck—Maggie screamed... Beth screamed...

Amanda watched it, screams in her ears, but there was only one voice in her ears now—echoing in the emptiness—

_I want more, Amanda, more than this—_

This—

Tears dimming the world around her under a veil, Amanda looked at the carnage—

This.

The cruelest joke had ever made. _I don't want to live in fear anymore. This isn't a living._

No. It was only death, and they _were_ dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, before I run away and hide--I just had to do it, kill someone before they start that hellish journey to Alexandria in the wilderness with despair as Rick makes his infamous "we're the walking dead" speech. The show sacrificed Beth and Tyreese for it, but I'm *still* trying to get over Beth's canon death, and I wanted to have her live through what Maggie had lived through at the TV together with Amanda. I really felt bad Maggie while writing this part, and for Amanda too as she just started opening up the idea of 'having more' than just prowling, scavenging, and killing rotters...you know, I put that exchange from the first chapters at the summary between Rick and Amanda for a reason... 
> 
> I hope you don't hate me because I kill Maggie. She's also a big main character, having a lot of ties to the plots in the later seasons so this also forces me to change the canon. This thing worked very well with Tyreese after I killed him at Grady, making me develop Lizzie-Amanda-Rick subplot.
> 
> Please, don't hesitate to leave a review. They really motivate me to find more time to sit down and write :)
> 
> There're a couple of quotes I used in this chapter, hope strings eternal in the human breast from an poem, which I just remember the poet...*sigh* and "Shared pain was truly lessened, shared joy increased" is from a book I once read too, again can't remember... too lazy to check out right now. (I need to make a quote book...) 'Every contact leaves a trace" is also a forensic science principle, Locard's exchange principle, if memory serves me right. Amanda's last thought "they were dying" is a shout out to Rick's hallucinated phone call to Lori, "we're dying here." I'd found it truly tragic, so simple, but it'd almost made me cry while watching, the despair in them.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, I'm back! Sorry for the lateness, I was just being social again :) This chapter really took me a while to get in the mood again. Hope it's gonna be worth the wait. (Didn't proofread it, either. Will do it tomorrow)

**XLV.**

With his other arm still suspending Judith over his torso protectively as his baby girl bawled out frightened, Rick emptied his Colt Python at the walkers trying to lunge towards them over the screams and wails screeching through the dimly lit tall ceilings, but in his ears, all sound was consisted of only one word—two syllables, a single name;

_MAGGIEEEEE—_

Ahead of him, Glenn was holding the older Greene as she dropped over the entrance, her shoulder and neck covered with blood as Glenn roared out a deep guttural howl, his head bowed over her bosom. Behind them, the sergeant and his girlfriend were already trying to close the wooden door. Daryl jumped to help them, pushing one wing with his entire forte as Rick shot at the walker closest to them with the last of his rounds.

_The dead are here—_

The death was here. As he hopped his shrieking baby in his embrace to calm her down, his eyes skipped at Maggie. This couldn’t be happening. He’d just made a patrol fifteen minutes ago, hadn’t seen anything. How the dead would have found them?

His eyes found the pastor this time as the man was hunched back at a corner, and Rick knew. His dark face pale was with fright, his darker eyes glazed with terror and tears, red-rimmed. There were wet stains over his cheeks, too, as he trembled uncontrollably. He looked _guilty_ as he looked down at the dead down around them, already over a dozen. Many others were still trying to get through the door that Abraham and Daryl managed to barricade at the last minute. Sasha, Bob, and Joan killed a few remaining walkers at the other side of the hall.

Snarls and sneers were coming only from outside now. The screams and shrieks had lessened while the weeping and hitched breaths became more poignant. Rick scooted Judith closer to his chest, turning aside as his baby girl, somehow soothed down a bit, was only making long soft weeps, still frightened at the sudden attack. Carl was clutching Beth at the floor beside him, holding her closely as the teenager cried loudly, her head hid across his son’s shoulder as Amanda stood still at his other side, her red eyes shining with tears instead of hope now.

 _But is it enough?_ The question echoed in him again as Rick felt bile in his mouth. Rick had had to accept the answer. Staying alive was the bottom line, but it _wasn’t_ enough. He’d _always_ wanted to give more to his family, called it a pipe dream or not.

He was a fool, and how many times the world was going to remind him that fact? _We’re not safe,_ his words to Carl after the woods found him, _No matter how many people are around or how clear the area looks, no matter what anyone says, no matter what you think, we are not safe._

They were never ever going to be safe again. How much things might go well for them, it didn’t change things out there. It hadn’t changed for Lori, it hadn’t changed for Hershel, it hadn’t changed for Michonne, and now it wasn’t changing for Maggie.

His eyes hurt, too, countless little needless pricking inside as he felt a fury—a blinding, scorching rushing in him, turning blood in his veins into fire… Maggie didn’t deserve this. None of them deserved this. _Y’all deserve more than this._

And again, Rick was failing.

He should’ve protected her. Protected his people, his family.

_You can’t always protect us, dad._

_Yeah, but it’s my job to try._

The rage blazed further, recalling the old memory, itching his soul—to go out—do something—his job, his duty…then for a split of second, he was again in the filthy dark corridors of the prison, running out of his mind with despair and fury, running and killing, his hand wet and warm with the blood dripping from the ax in his hand—

His eyes moved, searching and spotted the pastor again. Judy still in his arms, Rick made a move toward the man, heaving out deeply, his eyes fixated at the man he stared at Rick back, dark eyes widened more with fear as if he’d understood, as if he’d remembered Rick’s warning. _If you put us in any kind of jeopardy, I won’t hesitate._

“I warned you—” he started, his voice as low and deadly as a snake’s hiss as Amanda’s voice rang in the hall over the baby cries and the sneers and snarls from outside, “Beth!” she cried out agitated.

The teenager had broken Carl’s grip and started running her sister, Amanda following her agitatedly. Carl went after them. Their attention turning toward them, the rest of their group had slowly started realizing what had happened, looking at them.

Rick darted a look around and saw the expressions shift over their faces— _Lucks run out,_ Rick heard Amanda’s clear voice in his mind from months ago back in the prison, _you can’t take anything for granted in this life._

They could not. Amanda raised her head where she’d knelt beside Maggie who was still in Glenn’s arms. At the other side of the fallen woman, Beth was crying openly. “Bob—Joan!” Amanda shouted at the medic and nurse.

The former medical officials ran toward them hurriedly as Amanda revealed Maggie’s wound at her shoulder closer to her neck. Judy gave out a longer bawl, her puffy face crumbling, tears trailing across her cheeks as if she’d realized something bad had happened too as Rick saw the bleeding wound. Leaving the pastor, Rick walked to their side.

Maggie held Beth’s hand, “Beth—” she roughed out with difficulty as Amanda checked her wound, “s’ ‘kay—” she continued, forcing out the words, “’s ‘kay.”

Beth shook her head, tears running over her cheeks like a flood then she lifted her head to look at Amanda as if she got an answer.

Amanda, feeling Beth’ stare on her turned to Bob and Joan, “W-we need to clean the wound,” she uttered out hastily to the former medical officials, trying to clear her voice. Though, her usual stubbornness was still in there, Rick recognized it. _I’m not a quitter. I don’t easily give up._

But Rick had seen how the dead had grabbed Maggie. Tilting his head, he looked the wound closer. His chest tightening, he swallowed low in his throat and called his son, “Carl—” Carl looked at him upon the calling. Bending down, Rick passed the crying baby to him.

Carl stood up with his sister as Rick took his place next to Beth as Maggie forced out gasping breaths, her beautiful face distorted with anguish, her moist eyes widened and red with pain. Rick felt his own eyes hurt worse too, the sight making it much, much harder, failure tasting like blood over his tongue. The wound wasn’t as bad as Andrea’s, but at the junction where her shoulder met her neck, it was still close to the main artery. If it’d been a limb, they could’ve cut it off, but this way—this way—

“I can stop bleeding,” Bob said back silently, as if reading his mind, lifting his eyes up at them, “It’d save us time.” In his tone, Rick heard the surrender, too, acknowledging the inevitable as best as he could, but Amanda shook her head.

“N-no—” she opposed, still shaking her head as the rest of them arrived at their side, “No… We need to bleed her out.”

Their whole attention turned to her. She squared her shoulders, swallowing lowly, “T—the infection—it spreads through blood and tissue, right?” she went on quickly, “If we clean the wound and manage to bleed her out, we might get it out of her system.” She paused for a second, her eyes finding Beth’s, “Beth and I—we can give her blood.”

Joan and Bob gave her a look as Rick realized she wanted to try what Maggie and Beth had tried escaping from Grady. Keeping Maggie alive giving her blood this time. His eyes lit with a newly hope, Glenn turned to them, “Can it work?”

“I—I don’t know—” the former medic answered, softening his voice, “We can try.” Rick felt the skepticism in the words. None of them knew how the infection truly worked. When the bitten limbs were cut in the earlier stage, the infection could be stopped, but Rick wondered if anyone had ever tried it this way.

As if feeling the same, Glenn turned at the man who knew the most about the infection among them, enough claim to know how to cure it. “Eugene!” Glenn yelled, waving his hand at the scientist to come over them. Aside the pastor, the scientist was the only who wasn’t already with them, standing at the back of the hall away from the entrance as the dead still drummed themselves against the wooden door relentlessly to get in. “Can it work?” Glenn repeated the question as the quirky man came at their side too slowly.

“The contamination of blood starts after the first stage—” the scientist answered bristling, his eyes darting at the door behind them, still held by Daryl and the sergeant, “If the blood can stay pure until then, the survival might be likely.”

It was enough of an answer for Glenn. “How we do it?” he asked back with determination.

Before Eugene could answer, Rick did, “We need to carve out her wound.” The words left a bitter taste after his tongue, but there was no other option. They couldn’t cut off her shoulder and neck, but they could carve out her wound. It should work. It _had to_ work.

The wooden door groaned loudly under the snarls and sneers. Daryl twisted aside from the door, “We gotta get outta here first!” the ranger shouted roughly, “These doors won’t hold up long.”

Rick turned to the door again. Glenn, Amanda, Beth, Carl—they all were about to protest, even he wanted to protest but as if on a cue the door made another split with a loud crack. Cursing, Daryl pushed on his side with more force.

Rick cocked his head, “He’s right—” He started standing up, “They all must be drawn to the entrance.” He turned to the pastor, and hissed with the same anger at the man, “How many are out there?”

The pastor shook his head, “I—I don’t know.”

“Where did you find them?”

“I—I went to the school—” the father confessed then, “I-I’d seen ‘em there. I—I wanted to...” He made a squeak, crying openly, “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean—”

His anger finding him again, Rick walked on the man, cornering him back at the wall, “Didn’t mean what, father?” he shouted at the man’s face, “WHAT?”

“ _RICK!_ ” Amanda’s voice echoed in the air louder than his, “We don’t have time for this,” she spoke clearly, drawing up at her feet too, “ _Maggie_ doesn’t have time for this.”

Time—there was never time. _There’s never time._

Again, another loud crack of wood boomed in the air too to prove it to him. The winged doors trembled on their hinges. Daryl and Abraham pushed further with their shoulders, turning aside as Rick lunged at their side.

A rotting slipped through the split beside his shoulder as Rick drew his back against the wood. The entrance to the steps was blocked with tranches. If they’d managed to pass through them, it meant quite a horde outside.

He looked at the church then made up his mind. They _didn’t_ have time. He had no idea how long it would take the first stage fully start, but time wasn’t at their corner. They needed to get out to the safety and deal with Maggie’s wound ASAP.

The thought of leaving the supplies they’d found was hard, but until now Rick had gotten better to leave things behind. The sergeant’s words were biting in his mind now, taunting him; _wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep with two eyes open, rinse and repeat…_

He pushed them away with his fury and tried to focus on what mattered the most. Staying alive. “Amanda—” he called at her, tipping his head toward the management moment, “There’s a flap door at the office’s floor opening to the backyard—” he went on, “Get everyone out.”

Her eyes stared at him, and he heard a brief hesitation in her voice as she asked, “You—?”

“We’ll be right behind you—" he told her back, keeping his voice adamant, “You need to get them out. We need to be quick.”

There were still kids inside the church, Judith, Mika, Carl, Beth, the other two young men—and Maggie. They needed to get out. It looked like the walkers had been all gathered at the entrance, drawn to their noises, the backyard still might be clean or closer. Amanda and others could wipe off the rest.

The church didn’t have a back door, though. Rick had already noted when he’d made the survey inside the church, spotting the exits and entrances for the emergencies. Such as this. His plan for a retreat had become the flap door that he’d made the pastor reveal after their talk, but it was so small for a full, quick retreat.

It was going to take a while to get all of them out of the small door one by one. Someone had to buy them time.

They shared another look for a split of second before she gave a nod, schooling her features, getting herself ready. Rick turned to Glenn then. “Glenn—?” he asked. The Asian man nodded back, starting lifting Maggie up, Bob, Joan and Beth all were at her other side, the scientist a step behind. Breathing out, Amanda turned to Carl who still held crying Judith after giving a worried look at Beth as the sergeant’s girlfriend came beside the scientist’s side for protection.

“Stay close to me,” she told Carl, reaching out to calm down Judith, then her hand paused in the air as she stilled cast off marble. Her cooled down expression started having another fright as she looked around with widened eyes, “Mika—!” she exclaimed with panic, spinning around herself, “Where’s Mika?”

From the backside of their line, Carol spoke up, “I sent her to hide in the office when the dead broke in.”

She stopped dead, turning to the older woman. A second later, she became rigid again, her panic settling, but her eyebrows stayed pinched as she nodded back at Carol. “All right—Let’s move on.”

They began moving towards the management office as fast as they could, carrying Maggie, but Carl turned to him, “Dad—”

Rick cut him off, “I’ll see ya outside, son—” he told his boy, staring in the eye, resting his back against the door, and repeated what she’d said, “Stay close to Amanda.”

Without another word, Carl nodded, bringing his baby sister closer to his chest. As the wooden cracked louder beneath them, Rick watched them vanish behind the office’s door, Judith’s cries drowning in the distance. Amanda stayed at the threshold to give them signal to pull back from the entrance before they all went out. Rick almost yelled at her to go and leave the church as well, but Rick knew it would’ve been naught. She would’ve never left before she made sure none of them stayed behind. Rick had read it clear from the pinch across her eyebrows after she’d realized she hadn’t known where Mika was.

He turned aside toward the sergeant, “The bus?” Rick asked, “Have you managed to get it worked?” The man had been working on the vehicle after they’d come back from the supply run before the sun had settled down and they’d started their party. Rick wouldn’t mind using the big vehicle now. They still got the two other vehicles they’d picked up from the town. Sixteen people were going to be crowded, but the trunks of the station wagons would’ve fitted them all.

 _Beggars cannot be choosers, Rick_ —Amanda’s words echoed in his mind, and it was hard to remember how flirtatious they’d been with each other today, how they’d enjoyed each other’s company, flirted, kissed, had sex, drank, even smoked… They—they should’ve passed the night in each other’s arms, not like this— _this_ — His eyes found the blood stain at the ground that Maggie had left… “C’mon—” Amanda spoke aloud, cutting through the thought, urging them across the hall, “They all left. Your turn.”

She slipped through the door a second later, too, and Rick turned to look first at the sergeant and Daryl, “When I count three—draw back,” he ordered. The other two nodded back. “One—two—three—” Rick counted, “GO!”

They pulled back from the winged doors at the same time, running to the managing office. Behind them, the door was cracking, clashing. They quickly dived into the office as Rick secured the room just before he saw the main entrance break. As he closed the door, the walkers started pouring inside the church.

In the office, the sergeant had already started slipping through the flap door as Daryl held it up for him. The hunter nodded at him as the sounds of the dead began coming closer. Rick ran and jumped down in.

It was a narrow corridor that led to the backyard. He crawled as quick as possible and pushed himself out of the already open exit, held by the young men they’d rescued from Terminus. Inside the narrow passageway was muffled so he couldn’t hear the sounds from the office but as he drew up, darting a look at where Maggie lay circled with the others over the dew foliage, Daryl started emerging out too.

Together, they closed the exit as Abraham ran toward the bus. They started following the sergeant a second later. There were a few walkers down in the little unkept lawn. The area looked clean, but Rick could still hear the snarls and sneers from the other side. Bob and Joan had already started carving out Maggie’s wound, too. Glenn was holding her at one side, as Carol was at the other, Amanda helping the medic and the nurse. Maggie was trashing between their grips, her face distorted more with pain and screams, but they were muffled, silenced by the hand Beth had put over her mouth. The young teenager was still crying openly as she held her hand at the place.

Carl was beside them, a few steps back, Judith looking over his shoulder, her long wails had become short breathless soft wheezes, thank god, and Mika was with Noah, three steps away from Amanda. The scene wasn’t for a ten year old’s eyes, but Rick knew Amanda wasn’t going to let the small girl out of her sight again. “The door’s broken—” Rick shouted as they passed nearer over them, “We use the bus to blockade the entrance.”

Holding Maggie down at the shoulder, Amanda only nodded, not bothering with a full reply, her attention solely fixed on the younger woman. Rick ran faster. The sergeant had already seated on the driver seat when Rick climbed up inside, turning on the motor.

The engines protested first as the former soldier throttled on the gas, not giving up, the loud sound of the engines surely drawing the dead from the front. Rick turned to the sergeant, “Move—you make too much sound.”

“I’m working—” the sergeant shot back, giving more gas, “There—” he said as the tires started moving. He throttled the pedal to the end, making a maneuver to pull the bus out of the park, driving backwards, running down over the walkers drawn to the motor sounds in the meanwhile.

With Daryl, Rick rushed toward the back of the bus to catch a better sight. “Move right—” he yelled, checking the pathway to lead the sergeant in the gentle curve ahead, “A little left—” he went on as they made the run. The church wasn’t big, the way wasn’t long, either, so a couple of minutes later, they managed to get into the position. “Hold there—” he told the man as he aligned with the main entrance, then shouted, “Go straight.”

With a bolting move, they drove into the little steps, diving in the porch before he parked against the door. The sounds the corrupting corpses made as they drove over them were sickening, but Rick didn’t feel anything.

After the motor turned off, a deadly silence fell in, only broke the hydraulic pumps of the opening doors. In silence, they stepped out of the bus.

Outside, behind the trapped dead bodies, half smashed half dead, Rick looked at the church’s entrance, destructed steps, destroyed porch, and his eyes suddenly caught Amanda’s folding chairs and tables lying broken in the ruins.

The sight of them brought back another kind of despair and fury—

Ruins.

_The real life._

Outside, inside, it didn’t matter, _this_ was the real life. Ruins… everything was turning to ruins…the farm, the prison…it was never ending. Spinning on his heels, Rick turned around and started marching back to the backyard. He still had a promise to keep.

_If you put us into any jeopardy—_

Blind to everything else, his eyes fell on the pastor as he was knelt down at the tree root a few steps away from others, his arms folded across his knees, his head rested on them like a ball. Rick felt no pity.

He lunged at the man and yanking him up at his feet by his white collar, he pushed him against the tree. “Why—” he spat, his hands tightening over around his throat, “ _Why_ did you have to go? What did you expect to find? Forgiveness?” he sneered, “Absolution?”

There was none. There were only choices they made. And the consequences they had to learn to live with. Rick had warned him, tried to make the man understand. _I’m not a man of faith, father, but I abhor violence, as well. I don’t like it, father, things I have to do to protect my people, but make no mistakes. If you put us into any jeopardy, if anyone from my family gets hurt because of something you did, I won’t hesitate. Do you understand?_

“I—I—” the pastor sputtered out, crying, “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—”

Rick didn’t care, either. Regret felt meaningless, tears felt dry. He tightened his grip, “Doesn’t look like anything to me.”

“Rick!”

His name rang in the air again, cutting through his anger and fury. She was staring at him openly, standing up from Maggie’s side, her expression decisive, but Rick couldn’t be sure of what. She walked toward them and put her bloodied hand over his forearm, her touch warm with blood. “Let him go.”

Rick swallowed, but still didn’t lower his arm. “Let him go, Rick,” she repeated, this time almost gentle.

Turning to her, Rick caught the sight of his snowflake necklace around her neck, the crystal sparking red too, covered with blood. _Ruined_. His first real gift to her, just to see her smile at him a bit.

Dropping his hand off the man, Rick bowed his head and took a step back. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his bowed head slowly, and only muttered, “I _warned_ him.” The father only should’ve listened to him.

“I know,” Amanda said back with a small voice, nodding as if she also accepted it.

# # #

The words almost made her cry again, but there were no tears left in her now, only determination. _I warned him._ And he had, she knew, he had, and she also knew the man should’ve just listened to Rick, whatever his intentions or reasons were, he would’ve never left the church in the heart of the night without telling them. _Stupid gets you killed._ Yet, no one was going to die tonight.

_No one._

She cast her eyes down, looking at Maggie who laid listlessly in Glenn’s arms now, blood covering her upper torso, passed out. Beth had put her head away from her mouth as Joan and Bob were checking her vitals.

This—this wasn’t how it was going to end. She refused to accept that. She just couldn’t. Maggie was going to survive this.

She turned aside and leaving Rick and the pastor at the tree, walked back to the group. Their new companions were among the trees in a close circle, but still giving them a respectful distance as Daryl stood at guard at the outer line with Sasha. Thanks to all things sacred and good, they’d managed to calm down the baby in Carl’s arms, but the poor thing still looked frightened as she made broken gasping wheezes softly, her puffy cheeks colored red with all the crying she’d done, her eyes shining wet and red. Mika still looked as shaken as they’d found her in the management office. The little girl had folded herself into a ball behind the couch and the wall like Amanda had used to do hiding herself under her bed, trembling still holding on her doll Amanda had brought her back. The sight had almost broken her again, kids needing to live through this. She told herself they were still alive, and that was what mattered the most, but the sentiment was still in her there; no child— _no child_ should’ve lived through this. The should’ve played with dolls, looked at the books, ate good food, drunk milk, given the care they deserved. It _wasn’t_ fair.

She knelt down beside Beth and studied the wound as Joan and Bob covered it lightly with Carol’s scarf. It was a bloodied hole now, but she couldn’t see any bite marks. The medics had done a good job, but blood was pouring out of it rapidly like a flood. Even though she knew that was a good thing, Maggie was going to need blood soon.

They needed to do a blood transfusion. The problem was that she had no idea how they were going to do it. The church gone, once again they were stranded in the woods in the middle of the night without anything. Her eyes flittered at the pastor, and for a second, she felt the same anger Rick must’ve felt, wanted to tear the man into shreds—

She gave herself a mental shake.

It wasn’t the man’s fault. The pastor had only made a stupid mistake out of his guilt. It wasn’t a willing act out of malice, but this world didn’t forgive mistakes. The woman Amanda had told that now was laying limp in her husband’s arms on a razor sharp edge. _This world doesn’t forgive mistakes, Maggie. One slip, one mistake, that’s the whole difference between us and them._

The dead and them.

Under her bowed head, her eyes moved again, and she looked around— _People tire me, give me rotters any time._

She’d jinxed her _good_ luck. She should’ve known better than this. She could still hear the snarls and sneers faintly from the front yard and inside, and a few had even found their way to them at the back, quickly been killed by the rest of them. Amanda had killed a few strays after they’d left the church by the trap door, doing her gig— _I prowl, scavenge, and kill rotters—_

She shook her head, trying to focus, her thoughts and emotions spiraling out of control in a whirlwind, her confusion, fear, despair… She couldn’t function like this—she’d almost forgotten Mika! Her blood had turned to cold when she’d realized the little girl hadn’t been with them in the church’s hall, panic and fear seizing her chest like icy fingers—everything happening so fast, so fucking fast—

_I don't want to live in fear anymore. This isn't a living._

But how else they were going to live?

She’d thought—she’d wanted to scream a big, fat yes. For a moment, it’d seemed possible, and she had really believed in it, not only because she’d wanted to, but believed it, perhaps as fiercely as Dawn had done--for Judith, for Mika, for Carl, for Beth, for her friends, for Rick, for herself—

“Amanda—” Beth called out twisting aside toward, her trembling voice reaching to through the confusion, “Amanda—what’re we going to do now?”

The young girl was looking at her as if she had the answer, her wide eyes, blue and red with tears glued on her, and then the answer found her easily. They were going to struggle, strive and survive. As best they could, like they always did.

“Blood transfusion,” she announced, her voice finding clarity, an anchor like a monolith in the storm. This was how they were going to endure it, bear this world.

They all turned to their attention to her as Amanda to the medical officials next to Glenn at the other side. “How can we do it?” she asked.

She was only focused on the how now because they were going to do it. But how? She asked herself again. They’d searched the town today, hadn’t seen any hospital or clinic in the center. The get-away town was close to the city, so people wouldn’t have felt the need for it. Perhaps on the road they would’ve found something, but they couldn’t go on a search in the night with the kids. Maggie didn’t have that much time, either. The scientist, Eugene, wasn’t specific, but each hour they lost, Maggie came closer to the danger. They had to start changing her blood. If she had to, she could even go back to Grady and try to strike a deal with Gorman—

“We need equipment,” Joan answered and continued hurriedly, “I linked you two with an IV before, but it wouldn’t work for Maggie. We gotta pump out her blood, too.” The former nurse paused, her eyes staring at hers, “She also needs antibiotics.”

Amanda swallowed, realizing her last thought would become very well a necessity. She felt she was going back to the beginning. _There’s no going back—_ she reminded herself Rick’s words, before she remarked, “We need a hospital. Meds.”

His face had been bearing that weary look after he’d let go the pastor, but after her declaration, his head snapped up at her, his eyes flashing as if he’d read her meaning. “We should leave—” Glenn spoke before Rick did, lifting his head up from Maggie, “Noah’s home—”

Shaking her head, Amanda interrupted the younger man, “is five hundred miles away—” she said back, “and it’s almost midnight now. We can’t risk the open road.” Not with the kids. The highways were always perilous, tended to be jammed with cars or the packs of hordes, but at the night? No way. They couldn’t risk it that way. Besides, Maggie couldn’t make it until then on her own. Amanda wasn’t a scientist, wasn’t a health official, but even she knew that.

She swallowed lowly again, their only option becoming palpable. They couldn’t risk the high road, but Amanda knew every damn way that went back to Atlanta. She was useless in the wild, but the roads were her turf. They were still only a few miles away from the funeral home.

So, she braced herself…there were no other option. No chance, no choice. No one was going to die tonight. She swore to herself. “We’re still close to the city,” she stated coolly, “Grady—”

 _“No!”_ Rick’s hissing voice cut her off from the tree even before she could complete the sentence, “ _Don’t_ even think about it.”

“Amanda, we can’t—” Joan jumped in to after him as Beth looked at her terrified. Amanda remembered the way she’d screamed and cried over her sister, the last remaining member of her family, the way she’d kept her hand over Maggie’s mouth to silence her screams as they cut off the older woman, the way Glenn looked at her with tears as she’d trashed in their grips helplessly while they did it—no—No… No… Beth wasn’t going to lose her sister. Glenn wasn’t going to lose his wife.

No one was going to die tonight.

Her mind getting resolute, she looked at them, “Joan, you stay. _You_ can’t go back,” she agreed. With her, things weren’t personal. Amanda was just business. It could work, she told herself. Gorman had been always pragmatist the most. “We take one of the cars. We can make it there less than an hour. We have to stop the bleeding though until then,” she went on while they looked at her still bewildered, “Then I talk to Gorman—”

The mention of the name made Rick react again as he marched toward them closer angry, “No, absolutely _not_ —” he clipped, voice as stern as iron, “You’re not going a step near to that man.”

She grimaced. “I’m not asking your permission, Rick—” she remarked squarely, “Maggie needs a hospital. I can strike a deal with Gorman.”

 _“With what?”_ Rick fired back, “We got nothing—” He gestured the church with his head, then stopped, realizing what she’d been thinking truly. He shook his head fiercely, getting closer to her, “No. Amanda. _No_.”

 _I want you back—_ the words came to her, and she almost said it aloud, but couldn’t bring herself—the reality that she must have to leave behind what she’d found, despite the many she’d lost—how it felt having Rick inside her laughing, his laughter vibrating in her core, moving her foundations. Her hand shot up and she clutched her necklace. The edges of the snowflake pendant cut into her palm. Amanda tipped down her chin, and saw her bloodied hands—covered with Maggie’s blood—

_I want more, Amanda, more than this—_

A real life. Something Amanda had never had, possibly would never, too, despite everything deep down she knew it…she was doomed from the beginning, not like Beth and Maggie. Her throat felt dry, stinking, the realization slid in her like a polished blade—

“I—I can stay—” Beth’s sudden timid voice broke the silence, “If they heal Maggie—” the teenager cleared her voice, the shaking timber in it losing, “I can stay with them in return.”

Amanda stared at the young girl as if she had gone mad. “No,” she opposed as heatedly as Rick, drawing up, “This’s not yours—”

Even through her tears, Beth scowled, “She’s my sister.”

Amanda shook her head. Did she really believe that she would let do her it? Let her sacrifice herself like that? Grady was always the hand she’d been dealt. She let Beth go through that over her dead body.

She opened her mouth, but Rick cut her off before she could say it, “Enough,” he rasped out, “ _no one_ is staying at that place.” Even though the words were directed at both of them, his eyes were glued on hers, “We got the numbers now—” Then they skipped at the sergeant, “We can fight our way in—”

Amanda shook her head once again. It was still too dangerous. They—

“Our community also had a clinic—” the pastor suddenly spoke up behind them at the tree root where Rick had pushed him down, cutting off their verbal strife swiftly.

There was a strained pause in the dark air, filling with only echoing snarls, soft baby wheezes, and distant sounds of the night as they all turned toward the man. “It’s at the town’s skirts. I can take you there,” the pastor continued flittingly as Amanda stared at him much like the others.

A clinic. A clinic in their vicinity. She half closed her eyes, almost did something she never did, almost prayed, but once she opened them again, she saw Rick glaring at the cleric with suspicion.

“Please—” the man said then, his voice imploring, “I want to help.”

Rick made a deep grumble low in his throat, disregarding, “What’s the catch?” he questioned.

The pastor shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I’ve never been there after the outbreak.”

From the tree line, Daryl came closer toward them, “I scout the area—” he offered, “We can’t move everyone without knowing.” The rough hunter’s look moved to the kids, Rick’s heavy gaze following. Like them, Amanda felt the unknown too. Everything was a mess. When one problem was solved, another quickly followed—Beneath them, Maggie stirred, and Amanda forgot everything else.

She rushed downward on her knees with Beth as the bitten woman moaned slowly, coming to herself, “Glenn…”

Her husband leaned over her further, moving her Maggie at his lap carefully, his touch delicate not to hurt her more as their hands linked once again. The scene threatened her tears loose once more, her eyes prickling. She—she had to live. This couldn’t end like this. _This isn’t a living,_ the words found her back, moving her foundations in a different way. Amanda forced her eyes away. If she looked a moment longer, she would’ve burst into tears.

Maggie groaned again lowly, turning her head to Beth, and gave the young girl a weak smile, “Beth—” Even the little smile brightened Beth’s tears-stained face.

Amanda tried not to think how much it must’ve hurt a hole in your body, your flesh cut, bitten and chewed as Maggie smiled weakly. “It’s ‘kay—” the woman repeated at her sister again, “I’m okay.” Maggie Greene wasn’t a quitter, like all Greenes. She was going to fight this with nails and teeth. They just needed to help her.

Her eyes laden with tears, Beth nodded, holding her other hand tightly.

“How do you feel?” Amanda forced out, words stuck in her throat like glass beads. She reached down and passed a hand over the younger woman’s forehead, cool skin. She let out a small breath of relief, “You don’t have a fever.”

A pain expression crossed over Maggie’s face, her smile vanishing as she moved again, “It takes time for the infection—"

Glenn interrupted her, “No—” he said back adamantly, “The father Gabriel told us there’s a clinic around here. We’ll take you there to change your blood.”

“A clinic—?” Maggie asked back.

They nodded. Glenn lifted his head up at Rick, “We need to hurry. We shouldn’t waste time.”

Rick gave a half nod as Amanda stood up. She flickered a look at the church, then moved it toward the kids. Judith was still softly wheezing out in Carl’s arms, beside them Mika was with Carol now, still clutching her doll tightly in her small hand. They needed to get them to safety. “They can’t stay here indefinitely,” she started, “Rotters can come out, or sounds draw more.” She heaved tiredly, “It’s too dangerous.”

“Yeah—” he accepted, half bobbing his head again, but he didn’t say anything else. Amanda felt the same resignation too, the same conflict. They couldn’t stay here and wait for them, but they couldn’t take them to the unknown, either. The solution was clear, even though both didn’t want to speak it out. “We gotta split up—” Abraham Ford, though, did, “We pass the night then move out to Noah’s home at the dawn. The cars got maps in the glove departments. We show you the way. You find us there.”

Rick’s jaw squared. Amanda could see his muscles moving even under his beard at the suggestion. He hitched on a sharp breath, being separated from his children again, his worst fear. Amanda swallowed, “You go with them—” she said slowly, turning to him, “We’ll—”

His eyes flipped at hers again, giving her a look, then shook his head, “I’m coming,” he said, “You need me there.” His look slid over Glenn and Maggie, “I can’t leave Glenn.” He paused, “I owe him this.”

Amanda understood what his words meant. Glenn had helped him to find his family again. Rick would never leave the man alone now to protect his own. A pinch tugging at her chest, she nodded. Rick moved aside toward the sergeant, pointing at Eugene with his head, “He gotta come with us,” then he told the bulky man flatly, “We need him.”

The sergeant stood rigid first, weighing up _the_ _request_ , but Amanda knew an order when she heard one. If the ex-soldier still wanted them to go to D.C with him, he needed to do this. Or it was the end of their partnership. Amanda wasn’t sure how much of a help the quirky man could actually be in their condition, but Rick was right. The odds were better with him than without him.

The sergeant nodded, too, as if he thought the same, then did something else that Amanda wouldn’t have expected from the man. “Aye. Without Glenn and Maggie, we wouldn’t have survived Terminus.”

At the words, the tension at Rick’s jaw loosened a bit, his muscles relaxing. He cocked his head half wordlessly in return for an answer. Amanda looked at them too, “What’s your blood type?” she inquired.

Maggie was going to need a lot of blood. Hers wouldn’t be enough. She would’ve made them bleed her dry until the last drop of her blood, but she wasn’t sure even that would be enough. They needed another donor. There was Beth, but if one of them was the same type with them—

“B Rh+” the scientist answered. Amanda turned to the sergeant, “0 RH+”

Her heart skipped a beat. That blood group was compatible with every RH positive group. The sergeant would give blood to Maggie. She turned her eyes at Beth and approached her. “Beth, we got two donors—” she started but the teenager interrupted her before she could finish, understanding what Amanda was about to _request_ herself.

“No—” Beth opposed, shaking her head, “No, I come with you.”

Amanda sighed, “Beth, we don’t have enough place in the car,” she tried to reason with the girl. The most sensible course of the action was that she stayed behind as their numbers were already too much for one vehicle. The bus was out of the question as they’d used it to barricade the front yard. They needed Eugene, which meant they also got his protector, as they also needed manpower. They were going to an unknown territory without a recon, without any reports. They were good with this, but just had been proved once again this world never forgave mistakes.

The car was already crowded, she quickly counted; Rick, her, Maggie and Glenn, Eugene and Abraham, Sasha and Bob, and the pastor to lead them. Nine people. There was no place for Beth, not when they already got two donors. They even might need to forsake either Joan or Bob for haste. The station wagon was big enough, but they needed speed. And Daryl needed help to protect the kids if it came to worst.

Though, Beth still was shaking her head, “I sit at the passenger seat with you,” she said back, “We can fit. We’re both slim.”

“No—” Amanda refused again, “Stay with Carl and Judith. Even Joan needs to stay with Daryl.” Hearing her words, Joan’s head turned to her too, “We got Eugene and Bob. They need you more than us,” she told to the other woman, shifting the attention from Beth, but Beth was adamant.

“Then I take her place.”

“She _doesn’t_ have a place—” Amanda countered heatedly, but with rasping whisper from the ground, rising her torso up a little in Glenn’s arms, Maggie interjected, “She’s right—”

Her eyes widening, Beth looked down at her sister. “No—”

“I’ll come back—” Maggie said, “It wouldn’t hurt you to have a little bit of faith, sis.”

Amanda recognized the words in the car Beth had uttered to her sister while they had gone to Grady, and it really felt like they were going back to the beginning. She’d thought they’d crossed a line, would only need to go ahead now, but perhaps they were just running in a circle, over and over again, where all beginnings and endings were interweaved into each other, like the snake that ate its own tail.

Her eyes flickered around, looking at her people, scattered, stranded once again in the wild, at the edge. This was what faith had brought them to—she’d believed, at the bottom of her heart, she’d wanted—a big, fat yes—

She stopped herself.

 _I want more than this—_ the words echoed in her too, but Amanda suppressed them down. There was no beginning, there was no end. There was just the struggle, and you just played the hand you were dealt with. Endured it, bore it. Never quit.

Looking at her sister with tears in her eyes, Beth finally relented, too, “You promise?”

Maggie nodded slowly, “I promise.”

# # #

Her world was consisted of a blurred pain, throbbing in her core at every little bump the car made while they drove, but Maggie forced herself to let out only low whimpers. She was still over Glenn’s lap laying at the back of the station wagon, cuddled in his arms. Amanda had squeezed herself at her other side, forcing her face to keep neutral as hard as Maggie did, but Maggie wasn’t an idiot.

Even though everyone tried to hide it, Maggie could still see clearly the worry etched on their skins. She understood. She wouldn’t have thought of it before, but she felt eerily calm, not as if someone who wouldn’t most probably see another dawn.

She turned her head aside at the window, craning up her neck to look outside. Tainted with many dangers and perils, the dark night was still as beautiful as sunlight. She felt eerie serenity again, watching darkness under a heavy mist, moon and stars glinting—countless little lights over a black canvas, flickering, and it was—it was… “It—it’s beautiful—” she murmured out before the darkness took her too.

She fluttered her eyes open and saw them rushing in a dimly lit with moonlight narrow corridor, and she was in Rick’s arms beside Glenn, Amanda still at her other side. It was a usual clash, like the countless ones they’d already done, killing the dead. Noticing her opened eyes, Rick bowed his head. “You okay?” he asked, and Maggie thought it was a stupid question given their circumstances but only nodded slightly before the darkness took her again.

When she came to herself the next, she was over a gurney in another faintly lit small room, Glenn sitting at the edge of the gurney-bed, Rick standing at her foot. Amanda was laying on her side at another gurney a few inches apart from hers, their arms linked to each other with IV as the older woman gave her blood. Her eyes moving at the red tubing that connected them, a small smile pulled her lips, “I know this scene.”

Amanda smiled at her back in the same way and reached out with her other hand to find hers. She squeezed and Maggie turned her head aside to check outside. It was still dark.

There was a buzzing inside her head and a constant beeping outside. She tried to run her eyes around the room and found out the beeps belonged to the machine that pumped her own blood out of her veins. The room had a ghostly ambiance, very akin to the prison’s filthy, tarnished grey walls and corridors. The beeps in the room also reminded her another scene, the continuous flare of the flatline when Amanda’s heart had stopped, Rick trying to revive her back madly. She half closed her eyes and tried to listen her own heartbeat.

Faintly, she heard it. As her eyes closed fully, Maggie listened to it. When she opened them again, she fixed her gaze on Amanda and Rick. “Can—can you leave us alone?” she asked, turning to Glenn. She didn’t know where the others were, possibly securing the clinic for the night, but Maggie wanted to talk with Rick and Amanda before she stayed with Glenn now. She wanted to pass her last hours with her husband. If she indeed wouldn’t see another dawn, she wanted to spend the night with the man she loved at least. But before that, she had to do this. She had to speak with Amanda and Rick, made sure of things. She’d—she’d promised to Beth she would come back, told her to have a little of faith but look at where faith had brought her at the end. _I want more than this_. She’d just—just wanted to _live_. Was it a crime? She felt the condoms Amanda had given to her in her pocket. She tried to imagine how it would’ve happened if she had a baby, leaving her baby behind. The thought of leaving Beth and Glenn behind was harder than she’d imagined, but also leaving her child—

She closed her eyes for another second, remembering another scene, cutting a woman in half in another ghostly dark room before she’d forced to leave her child—She turned to Glenn who still sat on her bedside, “Please,” she almost implored, “I—I just want to talk with them.”

She had to. If this was indeed her last day on the earth, then tomorrow they had to do things. It couldn’t be anyone but them.

Finally giving in her wishes, Glenn stood up. “I’ll check on Abraham.”

Maggie nodded, dizziness catching up with her again. After he felt, she turned her eyes on the blood-link between her and Amanda, and smiled weakly, “Look at us now,” she laughed silently, looking at the other woman, remembering again, “I really wanted to smack you hard when you first came to the prison,” she continued as Rick sat at the place Glenn had just left, “You were _very_ annoying.”

Amanda smiled a bit further, “I know—” Her eyes found hers across her over the gurney, too, “but be fair to me, you were very annoying too.”

Maggie let out a faint sigh, “I know.” She paused, “I was annoyed because a part of me knew you were right,” she confessed then because she couldn’t think of a better time, “About Beth, about the risks. I—I knew it, but—” Another sigh left her, the confession still coming to her with difficulty, but she had to say it, in case that she wouldn’t get another chance, “I just didn’t want to admit.” She shook her head, her eyes watering, and her tears slipped away, “She’s my little sister. I—I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

Tears shone in her green eyes too, “Amanda, promise me—” Maggie demanded then, shaking her linked arm lightly, “Please, if this doesn’t work—if something happens to me—”

Her sister by blood didn’t let her finish it.

“ _NO!_ ” she interrupted heatedly, “Don’t talk like that.” There was a fire in her voice, a stormy adamancy, but it wasn’t faith. It was just determination. The same kind of fortitude that had made her to try to get them out of Grady with her everything, ready to give away her everything, and that was why it had to be _her_. “Amanda—” she started, but the other woman cut her off again.

“No!” she still refused, “It’s gon’ work. You’ll come back! You—you promised!” She slid closer to the edge over the gurney, her hand still holding hers, “You have to fight back. You can’t quit.”

“I’m not quitting,” Maggie told her back, almost wearily. She was—weary. She felt warmness spread over like a blanket. Her breath hitched, “I’m being realistic.” Her head was dizzy, and heat was coming. She knew what those meant. She turned to Rick, “Rick—it has to be you. Please. It can’t be Glenn—” she almost begged, “Don’t let him do it.”

Without a word, bowing his head, Rick nodded. She gave out a sob, and told him the thing she always wanted to say but never could bring herself, “I’m sorry—” she continued, “I wish—I wish I could’ve done more for Lori—”

This time Rick cut her off, lifting his head up, and when their eyes found each other, Maggie saw her his blues were reddened, glinting with unshed tears. He shook his head, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault, either—” she told him back, “It was no one’s fault.”

“It was my job—” Rick encountered, and went on, “You shouldn’t think of that now. You have to gather up your strength. We’ll leave at the dawn.”

Maggie swallowed, her eyes moving towards the window again, “I’d like to see the sun one more time—” she whispered out.

“ _Don’t talk like that!”_ Amanda rasped out again, her voice barely a hiss, “You—”

She turned back to her, “Promise me, Amanda, please. You’ll always be there for Beth. She can’t do this alone. None of us can.” They could only do it together, but sometimes even that couldn’t be enough.

Amanda shook her head, “She won’t be alone. She’ll have you.”

“Amanda, please,” Maggie repeated, “Please.”

Slowly, her sister by blood finally nodded then, “I promise.”

When she woke up the next, she was moving in the car again, and it was the dawn. She blinked at the sunlight, turning her eyes to Glenn, looking at the man she loved with all of her heart another time, then turned to Amanda who sat beside her at the trunk. Their gaze found each other for a second, then they both looked outside at the newly rising sun. She felt warmness spread over her further, sunlight heating her face. “It’s beautiful,” Maggie murmured before darkness took her again.

# # #

They arrived at Noah’s town before the sun set down, and found another ruin, another broken dream.

_The real life._

Perhaps it was really no one’s faults.

Glenn stepped out of the car like a ghost, blindly walking into the ruins, looking ruined, Amanda following him in a closer state.

The town looked like a monument to death. There were butchered body parts littered around, blood and gore, churned out, vile. Over a wall, he read, _Wolves Not Far,_ written by blood.

Once it would’ve turned the bile in his throat, made Rick want to vomit, but now it hardly brought a reaction out of him. Not after everything he’d seen.

They came out behind the burnt, wrecked houses and saw them. Beth, bringing her hands over her face, was the first one who realized it. Her wide blue eyes, shining with tears, found Amanda’s and she gave the teenager a little shake of head, bowing her head.

Beth collapsed on the ground, her screams already piecing the air was of a wordless lament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, we're finally at the last stage--arriving to Noah's home. I just wanted to create a sort of resemblance the way Maggie learned Beth's death in the canon, this time Amanda shaking her head at her, instead of Rick before Beth collapses on the ground.
> 
> I'm trying to move things into a full circle, moving them to Rick's "we're the walking dead" stage before they arrive to Alexandria like in the canon. I decided to move up the journey there a bit from Maggie's POV, because I really wanted to do her send-off from her own POV, talking to Amanda and Rick, and the pacing needed to speed up. Uh. For a while, I really thought of getting them back to Grady, but seriously, if I did it, I wouldn't have finished this story. Heh.
> 
> The snake that eats its own tails is called Ouroboros, as a symbol it represents the cyclical circle of birth, death, and rebirth, with no ends and beginnings. I think this's a great symbolism for the circle of life, and suits very well for this story's themes.
> 
> Please, do not forget to leave a comment if you're reading. They really motivate me a lot to write faster. I admit I would've never managed to sit down and finish this chapter this week if I didn't receive reviews asking for more. :D Now, on the next chap, everyone really be miserable. (Sorry)


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly, I'm back. Even eariler than I planned. Struggled so much with the start of this chapter, but when I got it rolling, it finished earlier than I'd anticipated. Yay. It sorta wrote itself out, things ended up differently than I planned. Will explain at the bottom! See ya.

**XLVI.**

As she stood in the ruined town, her nose was assaulted with something Amanda hadn’t smelled since the time they’d fled from Grady. The itchy feel was catching in her throat, the remnants of gasoline and napalm stuck in her trachea with the smell of rotten flesh. Noah’s home.

She’d brought another person to a dead end. A part of her wished she hadn’t said yes to it so the young man would’ve never returned to his home to see _this_. For the first time Amanda had set her eyes on Noah, he’d been talking about going back to home with that hopeful tone. She felt like she’d taken back another hope from someone else, even though she knew it wasn’t her fault.

It _always_ came back to this.

Over her eyes, Beth collapsed again, realization coming to her seeing her head shake, her screams rising, her face stricken with raw grief. It was one of the scenes Amanda knew would haunt her until her dead. She locked it together with the basement, her friend’s unmarked grave, and Lizzie’s last moments before she pulled the trigger, but there was no escape for her from them. Not anymore. Her head turned again, and she forced to push herself out of her grim memories but the reality they were in wasn’t anything different, either.

They were in the scorched front garden of Noah’s home, burned grass smashed down on the ground behind the picket fences. Once had been white, now was darkened with flames of Molotov cocktails, smeared with blood. The demolished house must’ve been once white too; one of those nice houses with wide porches, flower beds, backyards and picket fences. Now it was just another carnage, another ugliness. _Wolves Not Far._

Rick had found the remnants of the broken bottles, looking at the ruins. Once perhaps she would’ve still wondered why anyone would’ve done something like this, wondered why people couldn’t have just stayed decent, but no questions found her this time. She knew she had to pull herself back together. Beth needed her. She’d promised to Maggie. She had to put herself back together. She couldn’t be any use to anyone like this, neither to Beth, nor to the kids. They needed to talk, made plans, decide what to do next. They couldn’t stay here forever. God, she didn’t want to stay in this macabre even a second longer. Yet, still, she just stood there, doing nothing.

Her eyes drew towards the mountain of the butchered body parts, ripped off limbs like a sick person had wanted to make a totem to the death…The burned ground under her feet swayed, her sight darkening. She ran the back of her hand over her pricking eyes and blinked a few times to chase away the dark spots over them.

Her eyes had dried, only stinging like someone was poking little countless needles inside them. The dark spots danced further as she swayed more, gulping through the burning itch, her sight completely darkening—A strong, firm yet gentle hand caught her.

“You should rest—” she heard Rick’s soft voice in the darkness, “You gave too much blood.”

She blinked again, opening her eyes, “I’m fine—” she muttered, pulling her arm back. She was fine. She was lucky. Nothing happened to her, like _always_ she was just watching it.

She turned toward Beth where she sat on the burned grass with Glenn, still holding Maggie’s body. Her heart wrecking screams died, the young girl was in silence now, her blue eyes reddened but dry as she caressed her sister’s blood-caked hair. Glenn was at her other side with Carl, his head bowed, face color of ash, but expressionless like a ghost. The Asian man hadn’t uttered anything to anyone since the time Maggie had given her last breath out, not a single word. He just sat with Maggie’s body, holding her in his arms, waiting. Amanda didn’t know for what. The familiar feel of helplessness found her again as she struggled what to do, what to say.

What _more_ left to say? She had tried, hadn’t quit, almost bled herself to death, but it hadn't been enough. It was never enough, death always found them. Her eyes moved, and across from them at the other side, she spotted Noah in the middle of the destruction, crying silently, his bowed head over his knees.

She remembered the way the young man attacked at the heaps of the butchered parts upon seeing a small leg with a blue sneaker, screaming a name before Rick had dragged him back with Abraham. Amanda didn’t know to whom the name belonged to, but she knew Noah had a small brother… Her head turning again, her eyes moved in a dusty haze, dim sunlight glinting through the debris of demolished town.

She felt sick. The whole world was sick.

She bowed her head, her eyes catching the sight of her hands, smeared with blood, grime, and snit. Her clothes weren’t anything different, she smelled of piss and body waste, her throat itching with gasoline. _We have to choose to see the beauty,_ her own words echoed through her, but where was the beauty? Where it had gone? Since they’d lost the prison, they were thrown into one cruelty after another without a break. _Do you have any idea how it’s like to be on the road?_ Rick asked her in her mind again, and the truth found her. She’d had no idea, not even close.

Yet, there was still no going back. They had to keep going. Had to be strong. They couldn’t stop now. They—they had to do something.

The cure—her mind whispered, but she couldn’t trail after it. She still felt so tired, so weary…Her eyes moved around again…the carnage…then found Beth and Glenn again, holding Maggie… This was how going to be? Was Maggie going to lay down for her final sleep here?

The question broke off some coldness inside her, she almost heard it, answer blossoming in her clearly.

 _No._ Not here. Not in this ugliness. _Never._

That truth was like sun inside her, warming her insides, giving her strengthen as she remembered Maggie’s last moments looking at the dawn. No, nothing like this. It wasn’t going to end like this.

They had to find her a spot upon a ridge to lay her to rest, under a tree, where the morning breeze would sway the leaves over her head gently. It must have an easterly view so Maggie would watch the sunrise each morning.

Then they all should say their goodbyes, say what was in their hearts. She wasn’t going to leave another loved one in the middle of a massacre like they had had to do with Mr. Hershel nor she was going to leave her in a cupboard like they’d done to Lizzie. They were going to do it properly, give Maggie Greene a proper funeral and a beautiful place to rest. Amanda couldn’t have done anything else, but at least she was going to do this. She’d failed her friend, she’d failed Lizzie, she wasn’t going to fail Maggie.

She turned to Rick again. “We can’t stay here—” she started, and Rick nodded.

“Yeah—” he said back, “I’m gonna talk with Daryl after we bury Maggie.”

His breath hitched, saying it, his eyes skipping at Glenn and Beth. At the end, like Maggie had requested it’d been him who had done it. They’d taken her out of the car, and Sergeant Ford had taken a grip of wailing Glenn as the other name cried out her name. Amanda hadn’t heard Glenn speak after then. Rick had sent the others away too to do it, his eyes resting on her for the last. “Amanda, you, too—” he’d told her softly, but Amanda had shaken her head, still holding Maggie’s head over her lap. Her eyes hadn’t dried off yet then, she’d been crying, shaking her head, protesting over Glenn’s wailings… Rick had just reached out toward her from the other side, moving his body and held her head. He rested her across his shoulder while his other hand with his pocketknife raised, his lips murmuring over her ear in a whisper, “Close your eyes.”

Amanda had heard the soft noise the blade made as it slid into flesh in the dark, and it felt something pierced her in her chest as well, her forehead at Rick’s shoulder, her body shaking with her sobs. Just another memory she could never forget.

She trembled. “Not like this—” She gestured with her head, pressing it down. She had to pull herself back together. Rick gave her a look, one of his patented ones, but Amanda didn’t back down. “I’m not gonna bury her _here_.”

Another look, then Rick nodded again. “We’ll not.” His voice came out so definite, so absolute, something pierced her through her chest again.

Swallowing, Amanda looked at herself again. They needed to prepare. Find a stream, clean themselves. It _had to_ be a proper memorial. She was so much covered with blood, she didn’t even know to whom they belonged anymore; her, Maggie or rotters. Her clothes smelled too, like her, caked with piss and dirt. She shook her head a little, “We need to get clean.”

Rick looked at her again, this time it was even more in scrutiny, “Get clean?”

She gave another half of nod, “Yeah. I’m not gon’ do it like this.”

A soft, subtle sigh left him, “Amanda—”

“You made me leave Lizzie in a cupboard, Rick!” she almost hissed, a fire suddenly erupting in her, breaking over something else, her eyes burning—wetting… tears slipped off again over her cheeks. “I—I’m covered with cesspit piss, dirt and blood! _Maggie’s_ blood.” She shook her head again, “I _can’t_ do it like this…I can’t…” She-she couldn’t. She had to do this properly. She had to—for all the things she’d failed—

Rick took a step forward to her, “Amanda, you did everything you can,” He’d lowered his voice a tone down, too, coming closer. Her body gave in further, his eyes finding hers. Her shoulders shook as she tried to suppress down a sob, but she couldn’t help it… Her head was turning again—His arms wrapped around her the second later.

He brought her closer at his chest before she closed her eyes, another sob escaping from her. Then another followed, then another, and another until she collapsed in a sobbing heap in his arms. Holding her tight, he gently stroked her hair as she cried like she’d never done all in her life before.

She didn’t know how long it’d taken until her sobs ceased and her breath steadied. She gave out a long, languorous breath, pulling herself back. “I—I’m sorry,” she mumbled, bowing her head, everything in a turmoil inside her. She’d never done something like this before, never cried like this in someone’s embrace, in a _man’s_ embrace. Under her bowed head, she saw his shirt, wettened with her tears at his chest. She felt heat rising to her cheek, her head still turning… She-she had to pull herself back. Beth needed her. Kids needed her. She had to go get up Beth, get them prepared for the funeral.

She swallowed again, calming herself down, lifted her head again. “I—I need to talk to Beth. Can you ask Daryl to find a stream or something for us?” she asked.

It was dangerous, especially those Wolves still might be somewhere out there—but she still couldn’t help herself. Rick looked like he was going to say something too, a protest, but the next second he gave her back a half of tilt with his head.

She turned aside to leave, “Amanda—” he called her after her. She stopped and twisted back, “What happened—” he told her then, “It wasn’t your fault—”

Hadn’t she told him that once in the woods? Before they had promised to each other to sit down, get drunk, and have a talk once they got to Terminus. Even their memories, their failures had interweaved into each other now. It was getting impossible to realize where one finished the other started. Maggie’s last words found her too. _It was no one’s fault._

Perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps it was just _life_. They born, lived, and died. It sounded so simple, like the snake that ate her own tail at her left ankle, a little remnant from a drunken night, yet here she was, standing with a strained coil deep inside their stomach that told her otherwise. She knew Rick knew it, too. _She was my wife. I should’ve protected her, kept her safe, but I couldn’t. And I’ll always have to live with that._

So, she swallowed lowly, and repeated what she’d told him after Gorman had found them, “Yet you still feel responsible.”

Rick let out a small sigh, loaded with loss, suffering, and pain, “I know.”

She swallowed again, “Maggie had told me about Lori after our way back from Terminus,” she confessed. Her eyes found him, “I’m sorry.” She was sorry, sorry for everything. Even though it didn’t change anything, she wanted him to know it.

His eyes on hers too, Rick nodded again. They stayed in silence for a few seconds before Rick’s attention moved and fell on the pastor who was standing in front of the town’s ruined gates, destructed walls. His expression shifted, becoming even graver. “You won’t touch him,” she told him, her voice having another kind of firmness, her eyes still on the cleric as Rick kept looking at the man, “I don’t want any more death, Rick.”

Another silence for a split of second, their eyes still staring ahead, then he said with another half nod, “Okay.”

# # #

For a second or so Beth thought she’d heard Amanda wrong, but the next moment she’d realized she hadn’t. She couldn’t understand it first, the absurdity of such a request in their condition. Once she would’ve had. Once she would’ve been the one to make such a request. Once…Once upon a time. Once upon a time there was a girl who still believed there would’ve been _still_ happy endings; holidays, birthdays and summer picnics.

Beth shook her head. She wasn’t that girl anymore. “No—” she said, her voice so low she knew Amanda could barely catch her short answer. She didn’t mind. She didn’t want to talk. Glenn hadn’t still said a word. Somehow words seemed feeble now. _It doesn’t look like anything to me,_ Rick had told the pastor, Beth agreed.

But Amanda _still_ was persistent. “Yes—” Her older friend spoke softly yet firmly in her cop voice, kneeling down in front of her. She wondered how Amanda would still stay this defiant in this suckass world, but found herself not caring anymore, either. Everything in this world was tainted with filth. It was impossible to stay untouched by it, impossible to stay unscathed. A part of her even wanted to unwound her hand, wanted to see her scar, wanted the whole world to see how scarred she’d become. She didn’t want to hide it.

She hadn’t collapsed this time. She hadn’t stopped functioning, became catatonic. No. Happily-ever-afters fading, Beth had finally become a part of this world. “What’s the point?” she questioned.

Amanda wanted them to get clean for the funeral, for _her sister’s_ , for her beautiful, courageous, fierce sister’s funeral. Beth couldn’t see the point, either. They were going to bury her in the woods, make a carving at a tree trunk, then they would move on to another place, to another disaster, never come back and Maggie was going to stay there until the end of this ugly, suckass world.

_I’ll come back—_

No one ever came back. They were just drifting like that disposed plastic bag though the wind, and everything—everything was a lie. The promises, faith, hope— _everything_ was a lie.

Promises were broken, prayers unheard, unanswered. There was no salvation, God had forsaken them. She even wondered if he’d ever cared. She shook her head again, twisting her head aside, “It doesn’t matter.”

Amanda’s hand found her cheek, and turned her face toward herself back, “It _does_ matter, Beth—” She was looking at Beth straight in the eye, her voice still bore that fierce timber, resolute, and for a moment, for a split of second, Beth dared to believe again—

_I’ll come back._

It fell apart, coming apart like a feather in the wind. She knew a story. Once upon a time there was a girl… and she’d died. This was how the stories ended now. “She said—she said she was gon’ come back—” she whispered.

“Beth—” Amanda whispered back as Beth bowed her head.

 _I wanted to,_ Amanda had confessed them in the car while they were going to Grady that she’d believed in her superior because she’d wanted to. Beth had finally understood what that meant, too. “I really wanted to believe too, Amanda,” she said, lifting her head, “wanted to believe we still could have happy endings.” A bitter ghost of smile flickered over her lips at her own naivety, “Daddy still could live a long, happy life, Glenn and Maggie could have babies—“ She paused, finally understanding _all_ of it, “I saw you talking with Maggie, giving her something—“ Her eyes found her friends’, “She declined. What was it?”

She knew the answer, but still wanted to hear from the older woman, wanted to hear how she truly _stupid_ she’d been. Giving her an imploring look, Amanda only could tip her head down to find her eyes, “Beth—”

“Was it condoms, right?” Beth asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was just another reminder of the cruelty the world they lived in, “They—they wanted to have a baby.”

Her name, having that defiant timber again, “ _Beth_ —”

She cut the older woman, standing up, “Still haven’t given up, officer?” she asked, her voice cutting, even stranger to her own ears, but she found it fitting, too. She felt like a stranger, not like herself. Once upon a time, there was a girl, and that girl had died too. Now in her stead stood another, a scarred one who was covered with all the ugliness of this world. And Amanda was asking her to get clean. Her fingers caressed her wrist, felt the scarred skin under her fingertips—

Amanda’s hand clasped around hers tightly and stopped her motion. Beth raised her eyes up at the older woman. A moment passed between them, none of them speaking, yet her eyes still told it all. “Why bother?” Beth asked then, “We’re just gon’ get dirty again.”

“Why do you eat when you know you’ll just get hungry again?”

The question came to the tip of her tongue, but Beth didn’t ask. _Why do you live when you know you’ll die one day?_

Amanda shook her head, “It’s not about us, Beth. It’s about Maggie. It’s—it’s our last duty to her.”

Once Beth would’ve agreed... Once… Once upon a time… “You wanted us to bury the body we found in the funeral home, remember?” Amanda continued. Beth remembered, “You said it doesn’t matter even if we don't know him. You said someone took all that trouble and we should honor it. And you were right, Beth. We should’ve done it long time ago.”

She looked at her friend, “It doesn’t change anything—” she said back. They still didn’t come back. Her mother was still dead, Shawn, Otis, Jimmy, Zach, her father…now Maggie too. They would never come back.

In silence, Amanda nodded in affirmation too. Her older friend, the only remaining one with Greene blood in her veins aside Beth never lied at your face, “No, it doesn’t.”

“Then why we do it?” she asked. Andrea had said pain didn’t go away, you just make room for it, but Beth wasn’t even sure if there was left in her any place to make room. She was filled with death up to her mouth.

She waited from Amanda a philosophical answer, to make her see the whole point of it again, the point of _being_ —the whole meaning of it—everything, but what she got from the officer was simple and tactical like always. “Why _don’t_ we?” she asked back, shrugging one shoulder, “At the end it’s just a choice, Beth. It’s not _that_ hard.”

A soft laughter escaped from her, bitter but understanding. Yeah, she could see _that_ _point_. Doing the right thing—still having a sort of decency wasn’t that hard, even now. It wouldn’t change anything, but it was still the right thing.

Amanda titled her head a bit backward, looking at the sun as if she were trying to see something beyond the horizon… “I—I got a friend—” she spoke, her eyes still upward, “We were in the same house for a while. We used to play together, feed the stray cats in our street with our milk. We got punished for it all the time, but still did it. She—someone hurt her, very badly. I saw it. But I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t do anything. I was so afraid, then she was gone off the house. I never saw her again. Not until I became a cop. I found her at my second year in the force—” Her voice wavered, then she paused a little, her eyes turning back to Beth, “Found her in the homeless cemetery. She—she wanted to go to a better place. At her sweet sixteen,” she said, “There was a caretaker there. He told me he remembered the day they’d brought her. He said, ‘It was raining dogs and cats. There was no one, so I had to do the whole work under the downpour, bury her alone.’”

Her friend paused, clearing her voice back, “I stood by her grave and wished I at least could’ve done it—stood in her service in black, told her how it was good to play with her, how I liked feeding the cats with her, how she’d made my life a bit of a better place. But I couldn’t have done any of it. So, I just stood there and told her I was sorry.” She paused again, “Lizzie—after she killed herself, the gunshot drew rotters to the house.”

So this was really what had happened to Lizzie, the thing that Amanda had never confessed openly, the thing had happened because of _them_ —because Rick and Amanda had _happened_ , “We didn’t have time,” she continued, “We hid her in a cupboard and left the house. Couldn’t even bury her.” She swallowed, “Life’s always a struggle, Beth. You struggle, strive and survive, but we still need to do things properly while we _can_.”

Beth then nodded, “Okay.”

# # #

“Want me find what?” Daryl repeated, giving him a look, and Rick read the sentiment under the words. _Is she nuts?_

“Yeah, a stream—” Rick repeated, “She wants to get clean for Maggie’s funeral,” he continued, “She’s right. We’re already stinking. And we gotta find water.”

Water, supplies, their belongings…all of it… Rick didn’t want to think on them anymore, because it made him remember the church, and that made him remember what had happened, Maggie’s last words to him, Glenn’s silence, Beth’s screams, Amanda’s tears… and then the beast in him was clawing at him to go rip off that idiot into the shreds. His eyes skipped at the man for a second on their own, and Rick forced them away. He’d promised to Amanda he wasn’t going to do anything. He only had to make sure the idiot wasn’t going to do anything _again_. Rick seriously hoped that was going to be enough of a lesson to the man. Standing in their circle, Abraham Ford moved his head, his eyes moving around the ruined town, “This place gives me creeps. We gotta go.”

That sentiment Rick wouldn’t have agreed more. It gave him creeps too, the way body parts piled upon each other, butchered and burned, blood everywhere. Whoever did this their first aim was to destruct, in the most horrible way possible. Rick had seen the half of the houses still not raided, only demolished and burned. They hadn't scorched the town after raiding it. They’d had done this beforehand, and _that_ was giving Rick real creeps. The town’s eastern wall facing the woods was also wrecked down, making sure the town was open to the walkers and any other threats. Though, there weren’t much of walkers around. They’d made a sweep, found other tombs of the body parts piled upon each other too, but where were the rest of the bodies, Rick didn’t know. There were no heads, either.

Rick didn’t like this, not a bit. He would’ve already made them leave this place, but Maggie—They had to…deal with this _. You made me leave Lizzie in a cupboard, Rick—_ her fierce hiss had come into his chest like a bullet, then seeing her crumbling into tears…

He'd done what he had to. There’d been walkers, they’d had to leave…he’d had to find to Carl and Judith, but he wished…he wished… “Yeah—” Daryl’s rough voice cut through his musings, “I only stayed because I ain’t want us get separated again.”

Pushing back his last thoughts Rick gave a tilt of head back too. There was no time. There was never time. He’d made his decision. He couldn’t stop and feel regret now, he couldn’t stop and wish things would’ve been different. Hell, he couldn’t even stop and wonder the fact that Maggie and Amanda had talked about _Lori_. “Noah mentioned there’s a clearing in the woods,” so he supplied in instead, focusing on the matters, “We can camp there for the night.”

The sergeant turned to him, “What about these Wolves?” the big man asked, “They might be in the woods too.”

They were _probably_ in the woods. “We put watchers—secure the perimeters—” He said, as if they hadn’t already done it in the church, and that was just another sore point. He should’ve never said yes to the party, never should’ve lowered his guard, never should’ve let them lower their guards… Doing it—it’d been so good, sneaking away with Amanda, kissing, groping, smoking under a tree like the new lovers they’d been, then they’d paid for it.

They’d needed a break, but they always paid for it, and the price was getting too high…too fucking high. His eyes skipped at Glenn, who still sat beside Maggie in silence. Rick could recognize his grief. Silent, distant, unresponsive, Glenn was the opposite of him when he’d lost Lori. Rick had been a whirlwind of fury, the beast in him unleashed whereas Glenn had turned to stone, a statue, a monolith. _You get to come back,_ Rick heard Hershel’s voice in him. Glenn had to come back too. Bury Maggie, say his goodbyes, mourn her like Rick had done, then he had to come back.

“We could continue on to D.C—” Ford suddenly remarked, and Rick snapped his eyes at the man.

“Not now—” he warned the ex-soldier, cutting through his words, his voice getting sterner. “Not _now_.”

If the man started bubbling about the cure and the mission, Rick might’ve lost it. Thankfully, Abraham Ford felt the same thing, “Aye—” he agreed, “We talk after we bury Maggie.”

Rick nodded, and turned to Daryl again, “You try to find the stream. Ask Noah, he might know it as well. We try to scavenge whatever we can in the town. Then we go.”

# # #

The stream was almost dried off, a thin ribbon of water slowly lining in the bottom of the riverbed. For Amanda, it was enough. Daryl had found it an hour ago, using Noah’s directives, and she’d taken Beth to there with Joan, Carl, and Rick. Daryl had opted to stay behind, saying he was going to stay with the kids and Carol, the sergeant stating they were taking the second turn.

Rick had taken the watch with Carl when they all jumped into the water. Amanda first started washing off her uniform’s pants and Glenn’s white tee, so that they could dry off and she could change into them again. She got clothes now to rotate, even though the skinny jeans and shirts hadn’t still felt like her thing. She wanted her uniform back, too, the comfortable feel of her trousers. The tight jeans were too tight, fit too much as if she was forced into it…as if she were trying to fit herself into something else, someone else…

She pushed the thought away. She didn’t want to think about anything anymore. She—she just wanted to do this. She just wanted to get clean and bury Maggie. Properly.

She pushed back her talk with Beth too, the despair, the feel of loss in her, Amanda could’ve almost touched at it on the younger girl, as if it was a solid, concrete thing. _Why don’t we?_ It must’ve been the shittiest answer she could’ve found out, but nothing else had come to her. It was a choice—at the end, just like the poet said, to be or not to be. She might’ve fucked up a lot of things, a lot of, a lot of things, but she still at least could do this. Still stay decent, follow her code.

After she was finished with her uniform, she took of her clothes and started washing them too. They were all down to their underwear. A scare blossomed in her, as she thought what would’ve happened if they were caught again like this semi-naked.

The wolves in the woods. They weren’t far away. They _even_ had left a note. _Wolves Not Far._

Would they pretend they didn’t see each other if it were them? Would they turn back and go away, be decent people? She knew the answer before she’d thought the question. _I don’t want any deaths anymore._

She shook her head mentally, and throwing herself backward, she dived into thin water. The water was cold, chilly in the late fall, even though the sky was hot up in the sky. It barely soared over it, little waves gently licking the side of her face as she stayed upward, letting the cold water run over all of her body, her eyes up at the sun in the open sky. It felt a sort of cleansing. She knew around her the water was getting muddy and bloody, and she was getting clean.

She closed her eyes— “What’s it?” she heard Beth ask.

Amanda opened her eyes and turned her head aside to look at her younger friend. She was still up in the water in her underwear, washing her hair. Her wounded hand still wrapped with the red cloth as she twisted her long ponytail over her shoulder, her head titling toward her ankle as she’d asked her question.

Amanda dipped her chin and looked at her left ankle and saw her little tattoo. “A memoir from a drunken night—” she explained, standing up as well, “I got drunk one night after I started Academy. I’d never heard of Absinthe before. When I woke up the next morning, I got this.” She pointed down her feet in the water.

“What’s Absinthe?” Beth asked offhandedly, looking at the end of her ponytail.

“Let’s say I learned later it was banned for sale.”

“Oh.” She nodded. Her blue eyes found hers, “That circle—is it a snake?” the young girl questioned further.

Amanda nodded again, “It’s called Ouroboros. The snake that eats its own tail.” She almost raised her leg to show it to Beth, but forsook it, instead she said, “It’s a symbol represents the circle of life. The tail continues to regrow while it eats it. Birth, death and rebirth. Saw it once in a book. Guess it was stuck with me.” She hadn’t told the younger girl the spirit had used called the green fairy, was used extensively by the artists, painters, writers in late 19th and early 20th century for inspiration, to make them to see the green fairy.

But Beth was still looking at her funnily, “Do you believe it?” she asked then, and clarified when Amanda gave her a look back, “The circle of life. Birth, death and rebirth. That we could come back?”

Did she? She didn’t know. It was a good thought—to believe when they died, they went to a better place then one day they would come back. She shrugged, “I hope so.”

Beth gave her a look, her hands still on her hair, but didn’t say anything.

# # #

They buried her sister under a tree upon a ridge.

Amanda had found it, telling them it was the place. To the east, it was facing a cliff, and across over it, Beth could see the mountains lined up over the horizon. The sun set down at the other side in the west, painting the top of the ridge with a golden orange hue, and even Beth had to admit it was beautiful. Beth wondered how the dawn would be like, she almost opened her mouth and told them they should stay for the night to watch the sun rise from the mountains in the morning, but she didn’t.

Glenn carved a G and M at the trunk’s tree in silence, Amanda made a tiara from the wild flowers and placed it at the head of her tomb, over the tree’s roots. It was good resting place—until she would come back?

She shook her head at herself mentally. No one ever came back. But it was still nice to think like that. She took out her knife then, and carved a circle under G and M, trying to resemble it like to a snake. She made the head eat the tail. No one of them said anything, Amanda only looked at it.

Beth then unwrapped her wounded hand, passed the bracelet Amanda had gifted her to her other hand, let them be seen. They were her scars. Beth wasn’t hiding them anymore. She wasn’t hiding anything anymore. If she was scarred, then she was going to bear them as her badges.

She placed the red cloth next to Amanda’s tiara.

# # #

Maggie's funeral done, there was only thing left before they left this ugly place behind. “We should deal with the bodies—” she told Rick after they had turned back to the ruined town, back to the massacre, burned ripped off body parts, scorched earth, destroyed houses. “We can’t leave them like this.”

Then again Rick was giving her a look. She held it back determinedly. It was Noah’s home. She’d brought him back to this, made him see it. “It’s Noah’s home,” she told him, “I brought him here, Rick.”

Another subsided sigh, “Amanda—” he called out at her softly.

She shook her head, “It was his brother over there—” She mentioned with her head, “You know it was.”

Rick let out a sharp breath this time. “I know—” he admitted, then he admitted something else, too, “We can’t bury all of them, Amanda. We stayed too long in this place. We gotta go.”

And she knew—God she knew. _Wolves Not Far._

But still—leaving this—ugliness like this… It was just a choice… She raised her eyes up. “The gas in the cars. They’re almost run out. They can’t take us to D.C.” Rick’s eyebrows tightened, he immediately realized what angle she was going for, “We don’t know how the roads are,” she continued hurriedly before he could say anything, "The roads get worse when you get closer to the cities. The capital’s gonna be worse. It’s a miracle we’ve made out this far on the road.”

It was another truth, another reality, so he nodded too. “We take the gas out of the cars and burn this place down,” she said then for the last, “We _can’t_ leave it like this.”

He bowed his head a little bit, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Ford won’t like it,” he murmured.

She shrugged, “No, he won’t,” she admitted too, but said with a finality, “But I’m still not leaving it like this.”

His head snapped up at her, the keen electrical keen eyes fixated on hers, and the look he gave her made her breath shorten—the intensity in it—wordless yet so, so heavy. She stared at him back—her legs planted, not knowing what else to do, then he crossed the little distance that separated them.

She thought he was going to press down his lips on hers, give her an intense kiss like he’d done many times before, but he stopped a breadth away from her, so close she could feel his savory breath tingling at her skin, his eyes still on hers. There was another pause between them as they looked at each other in silence before he whispered to her, “I love you.”

She stood cast off stone, made of marble as he passed her walking away without another word.

# # #

They stepped out in the wild as the flames swallowed Noah’s home at their backs, fire cleansing every ugliness without a trace behind.

Amanda walked beside Rick, as he held Judith in his arms, both weren’t making a sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first thing, yeah, Rick said ILY out loud. Definitely, DIDN'T plan it, it just happened.  
> I was going for a kiss first, but Rick just blurted out the words before he walked away. But I guess it was about the time. I always portray a strong admiration from Rick's side seeing Amanda's struggle to stay decent, so he just blurted it out. Whereas Amanda's still having problems with intimacy obviously. This's certainly gonna make things interesting for them.
> 
> Amanda and giving milk to the cats, and then got punished for it was the same memory she'd told Rick in the prison before Governor attacked when they'd found out what Lizzie was doing, and the sonofabitch who molested her friend was the same one who made her go to bed hungry becasue she was feeding the cats. I imagine her getting so, so scared after seeing was happening to her friend, but couldn't tell anyone anything out of scare, and always felt the guilt afterward.
> 
> Glenn's not speaking was actually was Beth_TWD's idea. [Thank you!!] She'd offered it for Beth, telling perhaps she might turn to mute, but I was having other ideas for Beth. I was struggling with Glenn though, then had an epiphany. I think it really would work with Glenn, him falling into silence after losing Maggie. 
> 
> Beth's parts evolved around simply around the line *Once upon a time there was a girl...and she died." A reverse happily-ever-after. I really struggled with this chapter, I was knowing what I wanted to do, Beth's despair, Amanda's fierce determination to give Maggie a proper funeral, something she couldn't do neither for Lizzie nor for her friend, but writing it was a real struggle. Hope it turned out okay.
> 
> PS. I think the ban on Absinthe was left off in mids 2000. I believe We're about at 2012 rigth now in the timeline, so it still works for Amanda's time in Academy.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished another chap! Enjoy.

**XVLII.**

Her eyes snapped open from her fox’s sleep. “Where ‘re ya goin’?” Amanda asked Beth as the young girl stopped in her movement to stand up from where they’d nested together against an old oak’s trunk.

Her voice was quiet too, the edges of her words rolled with semi-sleepiness. In these days sleep were always like this—vaguely somewhere between unconsciousness and the waking world, one eye always open, always at ready, always alert.

 _Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep with two eyes open, rinse and repeat._ The words seemed to her quiet foreshadowing now, even more than her own _I prowl, scavenge, and kill rotters_ thing _._ Because the days since the time they’d left Shirewilt Estate had been just like that, too; woke up in the morning, fought the undead pricks, foraged for food, looked for water, slept eyes open.

They were other words, other memories in her mind too, but Amanda didn’t want to think on them, didn’t want to remember Maggie’s face when she’d told her she wanted more or the tone of her voice… No, each time she thought of them Amanda still felt like on the edge, barely holding herself back from not collapsing into sobs again. Amanda wasn’t the only one, either, they were all on the edge.

As if she read her thoughts, Beth’s eyes found hers as well, and Amanda saw her beautiful face soured as she got pissed. Beth got easily pissed in these last days. Questions got her pissed, soft, trying to be emphatic voice got her pissed, looks with understanding got her pissed, rotters got her pissed, walking in the woods got her pissed, sun got her pissed, autumn wind got her pissed, everything— _everything_ got her pissed.

The most, Amanda’s fretting.

Amanda just couldn’t help herself. She was—afraid. She’d even stopped wearing her bracelet at her left hand, not caring if anyone saw her scars on her wrist, her healing wound left open. There was a defiance in the gesture, a challenge of sorts, Amanda of course had read it loud and clear, but she also knew a few things about self-destruction patterns and behaviors. And, Amanda was getting worried.

Beth was in grief. This was her way of living her own mourning like Amanda crying in the dark silently when she was sure there was no one around to hear her, but she was at loss how to deal with the teenager. She’d been always good with kids and teenagers, hell, a way better with them than she was with grown-ups, but something had shifted between them after Maggie’s death. She could feel it. Momentarily she thought of going to Rick and asked him how he’d dealt with Carl after he’d lost his mother but crossed the thought as soon as it appeared. Not only because Carl was still having it hard or their father and son relationship had been already strained even before Amanda had come to the prison, no. Having a talk with Rick was the last thing she needed right now, the very, very last thing she wanted to think on… _I love you…_

No fucking way.

She’d no idea what the hell had happened, the way he’d told her _the words_ , then simply leaving her in her shocked silence. Since that night they’d barely stayed alone and talked—not that she wanted it. She couldn’t do it. Not now—not when—not when—she fucking hated it!

Why—why did he have to do that?

Rick always did stuff on his own time—threw you out of the loop with his antics but that? Did he lose his mind? Telling it her like that then walking away as if things weren’t enough complicated? In the morning she’d pretended like nothing had happened, walked silently beside him out of the burning town, steeling her mind away from it.

It must’ve been a moment of delusion. He’d snapped, gotten carried away within the moment. Despite of his many other _qualities_ , Rick was still a man, flesh and blood. They both were. They both had gotten carried away, many, many times. He must’ve felt something in the moment and sputtered it out. It was just a spur of the moment thing, no big deal. It didn’t mean anything… Goddammit! They weren’t supposed to deal with this now! Though, she had no idea how they were going to deal with it anymore, no fucking idea whatsoever. It just—it just—she didn’t know. She just didn’t know.

Sometimes she wished Maggie were with them so strong she had to roll her hand into a fist and placed it across her mouth to silence her sobs. She so missed her friend, every day, every hour, every minute, every second. She mourned the days they were never going to pass together anymore, the laughs they were never going to have, the talks they were never going to share. If Maggie were here, perhaps she would’ve been made her understand, would’ve made her feel not this lost. If Maggie were her, they would’ve gone to search for the water today like they’d done back from Terminus, would’ve talked about it, gotten pissed off at Rick and his antics, would’ve even uttered out _men_ with that tone.

She—she just missed her friend. Joan was still here, but it was different. Under their friendship, there was still this professionalism between her and the former nurse, born from spending almost two years in Grady’s strict hierarchy. Amanda had never sat down in the same dinner table with Joan, held each other’s hands, and prayed. They’d never gotten crossed with each other, either, never gotten worried about their common loved ones. Amanda had never felt that pinch in her chest looking at Joan and Gorman she’d felt looking at Glenn and Maggie. With Joan and Gorman there’d been only shame and regret.

“I’m goin’ to pee—” Beth bit off, giving her a look as Amanda kept staring at her lost in her depressed thoughts, “May I or will you come with me for that, too?” she asked, her voice snappish, words sarcastic, not sounding a bit like Beth.

Something pierced in her chest, hearing how the words sounded, the feeling of failure finding her again. She was failing Maggie—as if it weren’t already enough that she’d failed her friend, she was failing Maggie’s last wish, too. _Promise me, Amanda, promise me…_ She’d promised, but this Beth—this Beth was wrong! Just wrong!

“I-I—” she stammered, but Beth just shook her head, snappish again, the end of her sunshine kissed hair brushing over her shoulders in the gesture. Even looking at her short hair made the blade in her chest twist further. Beth had always liked long hair, always had used to bug her to make her let her own hair fall down. Seeing it like this felt like another failure too.

It'd happened at the second day’s night. It’d been already like hell, the late fall sun brazenly scorching them in the wilderness, high in the sky. Amanda would’ve guessed things in the wild wouldn’t have gotten any worse, but once again she’d figured out that she’d been wrong.

Half of them had been mad at her after she’d used the remaining gas from the cars to burn the butchered town. Even with the dissatisfaction though, they’d been quiet. Sergeant Ford had just taken a sip from the bottle he’d found around the town but hadn’t said anything else. Bob had given the bottle a look, caught by Daryl too, but had kept his head bowed. The sergeant had hidden the bottle after then in his backpack, yelling at them to ease off some dirt under their feet, and they’d been off.

They’d kept away from the main road, taking cover of the woods, not going into the direction of the towns, either. They were afraid of those butchering animals, Rick adamant to scout the area as much as possible before they moved forward. They took it slow. At the first day, they’d managed to cover about three miles before Mika had collapsed, tripping a tree root. Judith had been wheezing softly in the heat, making a fuss. Amanda had taken the baby from Rick. They’d fed her that night with a few biscuits they’d found in the town unopened, wetting it with water and berries Carl had picked up. Mika had eaten the rest of it, as Carl and Beth had eaten the berries, Beth munching the sweet-sour fruits slowly. She’d stopped after the second one, giving the rest of it to Mika. The rest of them had shared three squirrels Daryl had hunted. More than a dozen grown-ups, three shared squirrels, Daryl’s hunting capabilities would feed them to only to a point, Amanda had understood then. She’d taken a small bite after a stern look from Rick. He hadn’t eaten anything but. They made the camp when the sun set down, close to the road, but not so close. Rick and Abraham took the first watches. Beside Carl, Judith, and Beth, Amanda forced her eyes closed. It was also the first night she’d covered her mouth with her fist to silence down her sobs.

Toward the noon at the second day, the water they’d carried along finished, and the real hell had started. Amanda had always known she fucking hated the woods, but the level of it had just gotten into another phase. Behind her back hushed voice had started, too… _we could’ve at least made another fifteen miles or so with the gas_ —Amanda had spun around and fixated a glare—to no one particularly, just looked ahead—the voices stopped. At least when she wasn’t in the hearing vicinity. She hadn’t reacted after then, either. Ahead of them there were still one hundred or so miles until to D.C, at best. In their current speed, it was going to take more than two weeks, and they were already tired, already miserable. Bickering wouldn’t be helpful to anyone, yet they still did.

Beth had bit the pastor’s head off when the cleric came to her to talk, perhaps to apologize, perhaps to give his sympathies. The sergeant and Rosita had a quarrel. Sasha and Bob had stopped their games. Glenn was still not talking, Carol was just walking. Carl was usually just walking beside Beth, his eyes starting having that vacant look again.

When they stopped, they scavenged the area, even made it to the road to check around. A few times they’d found some abandoned cars, but they were out of the gas, left behind. Interiors held nothing most of the times. One time they’d even found a walker inside the trunk. The undead girl was bounded, legs, hands, and mouth and had left in the trunk, her loved one possibly couldn’t have done it. Amanda had pulled out her knife, and stopped her misery, Beth’s eyes on the rotting flesh the whole time. Amanda had closed the lid afterward, Beth had walked away.

The next day then it’d started too. Amanda woken up from another tree root she’d nestled against with Beth, her body aching. They’d started sleeping like this too, like in the cabin, Amanda snugging Beth tentatively behind her back. It made her feel a bit better, at least Beth was letting her do it. When she’d woken up that day though, her whole body was in pain. At first, she’d thought she was just having some strained muscles from the weird position she’d slept in. Judith was nested inside the tree trunk’s hollow, Carl was snugged at Beth’s other side. Rick had his other side around the tree across from her when he wasn’t taking a watch, which was mostly almost the whole night. He came before the dawn, having a little nap with two eyes open much like her, then rose up at the dawn and left for hunting with Daryl or alone, depending on his mood. Daryl had started taking them in turns too in pairs for their long-waited survival course in the wild, so mostly Rick was gone alone.

She wasn’t bitter. Nope. It was for the best. Of course, he didn’t want to do that—talk. She didn’t want, either. In fact, she’d called a tactical retreat as well, making sure not to stay alone with him more than a few minutes. At their second night, he'd come to give her some nuts he’d foraged, then lingered around, looking at her again with that look, and Amanda had decided then it was the high time to call for a tactical retreat to get herself some distance. She’d bailed out with a lame excuse, feeling Rick’s hard stare at her back, and then she’d seen Beth.

 _Her hair_ , more precisely. Cut at the shoulders. She’d stared, stared, stared— “Y—you cut your hair?” she’d managed to mutter a few minutes later, deciding ignoring the poignant indifference from Beth, too, but in answer the teenager had just shook off one shoulder, “Got bored,” she’d said, “It’d become too long.”

She’d then just turned around and walked away again. The next morning Amanda had woken up in pain again, this time as if her whole body was put on literal pin and needles. It was different than muscle pain, though, she realized. She’d known those. She had cried herself many times into sleep after a heavy workout, she knew how muscles felt after sleeping over a tree root nothing beneath under. This was worse than anything, any muscle pain she’d ever suffered, almost as bad as when she’d gotten shot.

She hadn’t said anything, though, just kept on walking. The next morning it became worse. Joan looked at her then, and said it must be psychosomatic because of the stress and the hard conditions of the wild and Amanda had had to bite the side of her inner cheek not to snap at the former nurse a “really”?

From now on then, every morning she woke up the same, her whole body on pin and needles as she felt herself on the edge, barely holding up before she tripped and shattered at the bottom.

Even then she told herself not to be a selfish bitch. She wasn’t the only who was in pain, wasn’t the only one who was suffering. They were _all_ on the edge. Beth had lost all of her family, Glenn had lost his wife, had barely talked during the week. Beth had cut her hair. Carl had withdrawn again, Rick forcing himself to keep them alive and safe beyond human limits. She was sure Rick was having bad headaches, barely having a wink of sleep even when he lay down to rest, she could see the way his vein throb at his temples even in the dark so Amanda kept her mouth shut and sucked it.

But—it was fucking hurting.

She rolled her neck, driving it backward holding her shoulder while Beth walked away, a silent sigh at the tip of her tongue. Even though she was alone now after Beth had left, Judith was still sleeping inside the hollow of the tree over her bed of dried leaves. Carl had gone with Rick to check the perimeters. Today was her turn with Beth to go with Daryl to look for water and snares. Abraham had another team too. Glenn usually kept himself off. Rick had tried a couple of times to get him on the board to take his mind off, but each time Glenn had refused. He mostly just walked or stared down at the ground in silence when they camped.

Rick was getting worried for the younger’s man detachment. Next to Glenn’s silence, even Beth’s snapping attitude, cutting her hair was better. She was at least reacting in a way to show off her feelings. Glenn was simply in a limbo state, limp.

Her eyes skipped at the hollow, checking Judith, then moved toward to Carol where she was camped with Daryl and Joan next to their tree. Mika was with them, close to the older woman. She held herself back from a frown, despite the feeling of wrong seeping into her again. It just felt wrong to have Mika away from her, even though she was with Carol. She remembered her panicked horror when she’d realized she didn’t know where the girl was in the attack at the church—A sharp jolt of pain slid between her shoulder blades, making her almost tremble with pain.

She closed her eyes tightly as a whimper poured out of her lips. She tried to massage the middle of her back with one hand, her neck having the worst of it. “Spasms?” Joan asked her in a whisper. She must’ve woken up early to join them too before they left with Daryl.

Amanda nodded, her eyes still closed, “Yeah—”

“They’re getting worse—” Joan stated, why Amanda wasn’t sure.

She nodded nevertheless, and repeated, opening her eyes, “Yeah.”

Joan sat on her knees beside her at tree’s rump, and started massaging the junction where her shoulders met with her neck, “You gotta loosen up, Amanda—” She almost made a snort at the comment, she _really_ would like that too, but it died in her throat as Joan lowering her hand downward pressed her thumb at a spot between her shoulder blades where the sharp pain had slid in her. The snort came out as a whimper instead.

“Carol just mentioned yesterday Daryl have— _magical_ fingers,” the former nurse continued then, a question mark underneath the words, but before Amanda could say anything, she added, “You can ask Daryl to give you a rub in case that you don’t want Rick do it.” She paused a little, “I’m afraid I’m not very good at it.”

Amanda twisted her torso aside to look back at her friend, “What?”

“I’m an ER nurse,” Joan said back, “I usually stitch muscles and tissue, not massage them.”

Amanda shook her head, “No. Why did you think I wouldn’t want to ask Rick?” The things had been awkward between them, but they were still in talking terms, didn’t argue over stuff. Trying to make their way in the wild was a challenge, was hard _for everyone_. It wasn’t just them, they were _all_ on the edge, but Joan gave her a look, tipping her head down, “I’ve seen you avoiding him—” Joan answered as Amanda kept staring at her, “Since the last week you never stayed with him at the same place more than a minute. Did you have a fight?”

In answer, she shook her head. Avoiding him…? She didn’t avoid him. She—she’d called for a tactical retreat. “I’m not avoiding him,” she said back, “It’s—it’s just too much.”

Joan made another twist with the tip of her fingers as she questioned further, “You mean _he’s_ too much?”

Amanda sensed a worry underneath her subtle inquiry, too, but this time in answer, another whimper left her as she stayed in silence. Perhaps it was him, perhaps it was just _her_ , or perhaps they’d stayed out too long. She honestly didn’t know anymore, but then again, she never did. _Trust me, I know my feelings._

_I love you._

She shook her head, almost opened her mouth and told Joan what had happened, she couldn’t hold it inside her anymore. She was so confused, so—overwhelmed, a part of her still wanted him to hold her between his arms as she cried her heart out, stroke her hair, hushing her down while doing so—she wanted it. She so wanted it, it scared her so much—

“Muscle pain again?” suddenly Rick asked, stalking on them, and her heart throbbed in her throat.

She spun her head toward him, craning her neck up, panic seizing her. Had he heard what Joan had asked? His eyes were inspecting her, too, looking for an answer, but there wasn’t that keen intensity in them, only concern for her well-being. It made heat blossomed in her again, and she swallowed, running her eyes away. “Just slept on it—” she mumbled out. She turned her gaze on his hands, he was holding one of the snares, “Found a rabbit?”

He nodded. “Not much, but it’s gonna have to do it for the morning,” he answered, “Saw a deer fell to walkers too.”

With a silent sigh, Amanda nodded back. They saw more animals fallen to the dead each day, even less than walkers. When they went out to the road, the dead were always lingering around in small numbers, trailing after them. In the woods, they saw them in pairs mostly, drawn to whatever attraction they could find.

They stayed in the silence then, neither of them making a word. Joan stood up. “I gotta go prepare—” she said, and looked down at her, “You coming with us?”

Amanda gave a half of nod at her too. “Yeah. When Beth returns,” she confirmed.

Joan nodded back and left them. After her, Amanda almost stood up making a lame excuse to follow her, but something anchored her down. _Trust me, I know my feelings._

When she stayed seated against the tree, Rick gave her a look, almost confrontational, then turned around her and came at her back. He dropped on his knees and started massaging her shoulders like Joan had done. She held back her whimpers biting her bottom lip while his hands worked on her. “Where’s Beth?” he asked, looking down at her, the camp slowly started rising up around them.

She made a vague gesture with her head, and roughed out, “Morning call.”

His fingers found a kink across the juncture and put more pressure on it. “You’re so tensed…” he mumbled out, and Amanda this time pretended she hadn’t heard it. “Judith’s still sleepin’?” Rick asked then a second later.

She half tipped her head again as Rick massaged her strained muscles, “Like a baby—”

More than seeing it, she felt his faint smile, “She’s gon’ be like Mogwli if we don’t find a place soon.”

She shook her head, “ _Don’t_ even joke about it.”

He made a little noise out of his nose in answer, then asked, “How’s Beth?”

Amanda finally let out a long sigh, “The same,” she answered, looking ahead. “Just bit off my head again.” She paused, and questioned too, “Glenn?”

Rick mimicked her gesture, a shorter sigh, “The same,” he repeated back. They stayed in silence for a few seconds, his fingers still working on her—Rick got magical fingers, too, she had already known… “They’re gonna be okay, Amanda. They’re strong.”

She nodded, “I know,” she said lowly, “It’s just—it’s just hard to see them like this.”

“I know—” he said too in return.

Then the words suddenly poured out of her, realizing how much she’d missed him, missed his company, missed the peace his silent but sturdy company brought to her whenever they weren’t bickering, and it made her realize once again too how much she’d missed other things… the times they’d spent in the prison, the little moments, the little touches she’d never realized how much they’d meant for her before she lost them… “I—I so miss her, Rick.”

His fingers instead of rubbing over her cramps this time caressed her skin before he whispered back, “I know, baby.”

# # #

As Rick left her to find Carl again, he felt the relief he hadn’t felt since the night he’d told her he loved her. It spread over him after their little moment under the tree. Everything was still a mess, but they were going to manage. They had to. They got no other option, too.

Even Rick had understood that. His eyes skipped at his younger friend, who was still sitting under another tree. Glenn was going to accept that too, like Rick had done. Life was going on. They couldn’t have stopped. They were still _here_. They couldn’t give up. Like Glenn himself said they could do this, but they could do only this together.

He still got a promise to keep, find them somewhere safe. He was going to do it. He’d also promised that to Maggie. Rick knew why Maggie had wanted that talk with them. She’d known it, felt it. He had to keep them together, alive. Once they got to Washington, things would be different. He had already started a list of the places for them to check out, starting with the White House, WHO, Smithsonian Museum, etc. There still had to be people around. He had to believe that. He didn’t know if the cure were a pipe dream or not, he didn’t know if things would go back what it was, but they _were_ going to find a place. That wasn’t an if anymore in his mind, but a _when_. Then _how?_

Each night he made patrols, each night he made his rounds, he made plans, how to approach a new community, how to assess them first before making a contact. Regardless his determination, Rick wasn’t going to walk into a disaster with his own feet, wasn’t going to let another sonofabitch take them what mattered the most.

His family.

They’d already lost enough.

 _I so miss her, Rick—_ her silent admission had almost made him to take her in his arms, but Rick only let himself a light caress when she’d opened herself again. He’d fucked up things, he knew, blurting out the words that way.

He—he didn’t know what had come to him, he hadn’t even realized what he’d told her before he heard himself uttering the words, like many times before. He’d just wanted to kiss her after her fierce words—he…he admired her—admired her stubbornness to stay good, to stay decent even in times like these, so he’d taken a step to show it to her, then—his eyes caught hers, and words left him.

_I love you._

He did. He knew it. He’d known it for a long time now—since the night she’d come to find him after they’d found Carl and come back to the cabin, and she’d come to him, wrapped her arms around his torso in silence, no words needed. He’d known that he’d fallen in love with her since that night.

He also knew they weren’t still ready for this talk. Not when things were like this.

Just expectedly, Amanda had looked at him shocked, failing to make any word, just staring at him stupefied, and not knowing what else to do, Rick had walked away. The moment was bizarre, so out of his league… He—he’d never needed to do this with Lori.

Everything with Lori had started easily, young love, new experience, falling in love together, no heavy baggage from the past. They both had been so inexperienced in relationships, so young. They’d both confessed it before the end of their third month, no doubts, no questions, no fears in their minds.

It was the opposite of everything he had with Amanda. So, he’d walked away. Since then what he’d said, and what he’d left unsaid had become like a solid wall between them. She’d been avoiding him during the whole week, making sure they’d never stayed alone, never gotten engaged in a real time. He’d tried a few times to at least make things a bit lighter between them again, but each time she’d found herself an excuse to bail out.

If things hadn’t been like this, he could’ve dealt with it, but they were out open in the wild, there was no time. And, Rick—Rick got… _things_ to do.

Find water, make sure they were safe and fed. Typically, Amanda was also exactly like this, making her best to do that. She’d started going on with Daryl for finding water and hunting, learning how to set up snares in the morning, learning how to track. The third day Rick had almost told her she should’ve come with him, seeing her going with someone else out there _still_ making him disturbed, but he’d still kept himself off giving her space. He needed some space, too, to clear out his thoughts, to settle down his feelings. He knew what he felt, but the admission—admission aloud to her was an entirely different thing. So, Rick had kept his distance as well.

He was being a prick again, he knew—but—they couldn’t do it like this. They needed to sit down and talk, really _talk_ —when he put it back together. But despite of it, the relief was there as she’d let him come close again, let her shield down an inch, and how Rick had missed her— “Dad—” his son called out, interrupting his thoughts upon seeing him approaching. He’d been with Beth, as the teenager walked away with the same pinched expression at her face.

Beth was having it the worst, driving Amanda insane with worry. Even from afar, Rick had seen her watching the teenager’s every move hawkish, afraid that she could do…something again. She never left Beth alone more than a few minutes, always demanded to know where she was going, what she was doing, _why_ she was doing, so much that even Rick thought once to go to her and give Beth a bit space, telling her fretting wasn’t helping anything, but he couldn’t have done that, either. Mostly, because whenever he’d tried, she’d always made an excuse to run away from him… Well, he guessed that morning they’d gotten over it, as well. He wondered briefly what had happened, what had changed her mind. She had been having troubles sleeping, having muscle pain, Rick had noticed. He was the same too. His headache was getting worse, too, sleep always eluding him. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep when his family out here at danger, having to live through this. He had to stand guard, one time he’d let his guard down and they’d all paid for it. Beth, Glenn, Amanda… The guilt was always with him, as if it were a part of him now. It wasn’t his fault, yes, but it was his job, his duty.

Carl held up an old, dirtied wooden box toward him. Once the box must’ve been a bright pink, having delicate flower designs across it, but now it was all faded under spots of dirt. “I found it in one of the cars when we checked the road,” his son explained, “It’s a music box.” Carl was getting worried for her friend too, trying to make it easier for Beth as much as he could. The music box must have been his way of doing it, and Rick appreciated his son’s gentle thinking. This was his boy, his gentle little boy who cared deeply his loved ones, trying to do the right way. That was the man Rick still wanted him to be, despite everything. But the way Carl had talked told Rick it hadn’t worked.

As if prove him correct, Carl let out a small sigh, “It isn’t working. But there’s a small ballerina figure inside. Thought Beth would like it,” he continued, “But she said it’s broken, told me to throw it away.”

Rick held back a sigh too. It sounded something as if this new Beth would’ve done. Carl looked at him, “Can we fix it?” he asked, “I still want to give it to her.”

Without a thought, Rick nodded. He could at least do that, fixed it. For all of them. It was his job, his duty as well.

He took the music box from his son, and opened it, revealing the little pink ballerina inside. “The gears must get dusted—” he told his son, inspecting it, as they started walking again.

Fix it, yes, Rick was going to fix everything back.

# # #

She fucking hated the woods!

Later in the morning, Amanda was traipsing deep in the state of Virginia’s forest looking for water. She’d thought before the best way to find a water source was simply the wildlife before she’d gotten lost in the woods near to the prison. Daryl had said she was damn right, it was the easiest way as wild animals basically lived on survival, and they made runs to the easiest way to streams, rivers, ponds, and any kind of water. He’d also hadn’t neglected to point out it was usually the most dangerous one, too, as squirrels and rabbits wouldn’t be the only ones who would leave behind such tracks. But Amanda was fairly sure that she couldn’t have missed a trail of a squirrel with of a coyote. At least, she hoped she couldn’t.

It was a studious job, demanding a lot of patience, observation skills, and having stamina to stay put in silence for a long period of time. There was a very methodical process behind it, strict procedures to follow up, more than she would’ve thought.

Shockingly, even though she hated woods until her last atom, Amanda found tracking, hunting, foraging not that bad. Daryl was a good teacher too, very precise and efficient, brief in his explanations but always on point. She couldn’t have asked for any better mentor than the man for a basic survival course, and Amanda was glad. When she was out here, doing something, even her aching muscles felt better, less strained, more relaxed. Action. She needed action. When her body didn’t work, her mind took the control. It didn’t do good to her.

After her little talk with Rick Beth had come, and they’d gone out with Daryl and Joan. Daryl and Joan had gone to check their own snares, as Amanda and Beth had gone to find the water. Abraham, Rosita, and Sasha must be doing the same too at the other part of the woods, and Amanda hoped they were luckier than them.

It was dry. The earth beneath them under foliage, the air, the woods…everything felt dry. They must be having October now, the rain must’ve already started in this part of the world, but since they’d escaped the prison, no rain had fallen. Amanda couldn’t have thought she would’ve wished rain this fiercely before. Amanda always had been a summer girl, too, she hated rain, she hated cold, but right now sun was their biggest tormentor, and Fall must be the second worst time of the year to be out following the winter.

In the days they were sweating like pigs, the sun high in the sky, in the nights, it was freezing. They’d wrapped Judith in Rick’s suede jacket, and she’d given her leather jacket to Mika to use it as a cushion. The little girl was using Carol’s jacket as a blanket. The rest of them used whatever they had. Beth had a light cardigan. Carl had found an old, tore off denim jacket. They were managing it, but each day passed, the question was getting graver in her mind. Winter was coming. They had to find a place before it came.

But right now, their more pressuring problem was the dryness, not the cold. She crouched down at the trails in silence. Daryl had also told them to listen—carefully. If you stay in complete silence, listening, the ranger had said, you can hear the water even from the long distance.

So she did, she stayed in complete silence, and listened, and heard nothing.

With a sigh, Amanda drew up.

This was getting ridiculous! They had to find water. The food was something, they could still manage it, she’d even heard Daryl speaking to Rick to switch to snakes, snails, and bugs as a last resort, and if they had to, they could even do _that_ , but water—there was no other substance for it. You could even drink your own pee only for a certain matter of time. They had to find water. If it’d been only four, five of them like before, things would’ve been so much easier, Daryl had even mentioned they could savage water from the trees and shrub’s perspiration but in their numbers, they _needed_ a good water source. It was a must.

“I want a condom—” Beth suddenly stated when they started looking for other trails, and Amanda almost trapped over a root.

“What?” she asked back, flailing her arms to get her balance not to drop down at her face. She must’ve heard wrong. Because _what_ she’d heard didn’t make sense.

But Beth repeated in the same cool tone, “I want a condom, too—”

Amanda stared at her, her mind still not wrapping over the sentence, “What?” she asked again.

“You heard me, Amanda—” the teenager said back, “I know you gave away condoms. I _saw_ you, remember?” Damn Beth Greene and her observance skills. She’d already told Amanda that, coming with the conclusion that Maggie wanted a baby when she’d seen her sister refusing the condoms. Beth was a very smart girl, observant, and in times like these, Amanda wished she hadn’t. “Life’s too short—” she continued, “You know—if something happens.” She paused, “I don’t want to die as a virgin.”

As soon as the words had left the teenager’s mouth, Amanda wished she’d never heard them too. “ _Don’t talk like that!”_ she protested heatedly. Even having this kind of talks with her felt wrong.

“I can—” but Beth said back stubbornly, and almost screamed back at her, “and I _will_!” She walked on Amanda hurriedly, coming at her face, “You know it’s true. This’s the world we live. You step outside, you risk your life—” she then repeated her father’s words, and it felt like she was shot with Daryl’s crossbow, “You take a drink of water—” she gestured with her head downward, “you risk your life. We have to accept it now. I don’t want to wait anymore! I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Beth, listen to me—" she said, walking even closer and held the girl at her upper shoulders, “I know what you feel. Believe me, I know. I know how it feels like you’re missing your life,” she continued, because Amanda knew, had always known it, “But this isn’t the way.”

Beth shook her head, shaking her hands off of her, “This’s what I have. _I don’t want to wait anymore_ ,” she repeated, pointing out each word.

Amanda shook her head back at her too. It was wrong. No. One day Beth was going to experience that, but this wouldn’t have been the reason. She didn’t want it to be the reason, a feeling of missing out, displacement, trying to get a connection. Amanda had felt that, that was how her first time had been. Beth’s should be different. _Better_. It should be with someone she cared deeply, an experience they should discover with each other, enjoying each other’s company. It shouldn’t have been a sort of obligation, not like completing a list of the things she should do before she died.

No. No. It just sounded _not_ right. “Beth—” she said, heaving out a sigh, “Please. This isn’t the good time. You don’t think straight. You’re—”

She cut off Amanda, “Don’t patronize me!” she sneered, “How old were you when you had your first time?” she challenged further.

Amanda shook her head again. “This isn’t about me, Beth—” she said back, “And it was different with me—”

“No—” Beth objected, “It was still sex.”

She sighed again, “I was eighteen, at my first term at the Academy.”

Briefly, the young teenager was taken aback. Amanda knew the reason. She’d thought she’d lost her virginity much younger, just like the man she’d slept with. And that was exactly the reason why Amanda didn’t want her to do it like this. “Beth, listen to me—” she told her again, “I felt the pressure, too, thinking myself too old to be virgin. I even felt a bit of shame. Didn’t even want to tell it to the guy I was with it. It was just something I wanted to get rid of it. He didn’t mean anything, was just a tool I had to use. It wasn’t so bad, but it wasn’t anything meaningful, either. It—it must be different for you,” she said for the last.

It had to be. She didn’t want Beth to use sex as a means to escape from her problems. That was her, too, not Beth. She’d promised to Maggie. She couldn’t let that happen. It _must_ be different for her!

But Beth still questioned, “Why?” she asked back, “Why it should be different for me, Amanda?”

Amanda held the bridge of her nose, feeling her muscles straining again as a nail slowly found a path through her temples. She knew from who she’d mimicked the gesture, but she didn’t want to think on that now. Dealing with grieving teenagers was even harder than fighting with rotters. _People tire me, give me rotters any time—_ her nonchalant words found her, and disgusted with herself she drove them away. She heaved out another sigh.

“So, who—?” she asked then, changing the direction of approach, deciding to be…practical, “Who are you going to ask to?” she pressed on, “When I did it, it was a one-time thing. We were both in the Academy, but different classes. I didn’t need to see him again as long as I didn’t want it. If you do this, you’re going to see him every day, Beth. Each morning, each night.”

The thing was that, like she’d told Rick before, you really couldn’t fuck people casually if you were stuck with them for breakfast. It just didn’t work like that. If Rick and she had acted on their mutual attraction at that time at the prison, starting something casually they most probably must’ve fucked things up, they’d both known it. They couldn’t have kept it up, especially a secret fuckbuddy relationship. Hell, they’d even screwed up things when they’d admitted they had feelings for each other.

_I love you—_

The words found her again, and Amanda drove them away too. It was just a spur of the moment, just like she’d known, she’d become sure of it this morning. There was no need to read too much into it. She didn’t want any distance between them, wanted them to be like they’d been. She’d really missed him, missed being close to him.

What she’d said had finally gotten Beth hesitant too. Amanda pressed further, “So—who you’re going to ask to?” She angled her neck up to catch her wide blue eyes, “Riccardo, John, or Noah?” she asked, “Are you sure you can do it? You sleep with one of them, then pretend you’re still friends, that it doesn’t mean anything?” The hesitancy grew in her more, Amanda could see. She breathed out, “You’re not like this, Beth.”

She wasn’t, Amanda knew. Perhaps it was something deep in her, perhaps it was her upbringing, but Beth couldn’t have kept up appearances, couldn’t have kept up that frame. The young teenager shook her head as well. Then she settled her eyes on hers back, “I—I’ll ask Carl.”

And, Amanda almost fainted. “Beth!”

But the girl was already shaking her head, “You’re right. This has to be more than just sex. With someone I care. And—and I care about him, Amanda. I care him a lot. He’s my friend.”

“Beth, he’s got a crush on you!” she cried back, “He’s fourteen!”

“He’s almost fifteen—” she said in return, “What age does mean in these days, Amanda? We’ve been together through a lot. We know each other like no one does. We laughed together, we cried together, we mourned together. We—we endure this world together. And—those men—those men—”

“Wanted to hurt you—nothing more!” she finished it.

Beth nodded, her eyes moving toward unwounded hand, looking at her scar. “I know. But—they got a point, didn’t they?” she asked, lifting her eyes, “Life is too short.”

After her last words, a part of her wanted to tell Beth to do whatever _she_ felt right, if that was really what she wanted. She was right. Life was too short. Even Amanda felt it, wanted more-still, the distance between her and Rick had felt so awful last week, but—another part was still telling her to be careful. They were still too young, too young. This world had changed their perception of everything, yes, even for age, but still… She let out another deep breath. “Beth, you’re right, life’s too short, but it always has been. We always live knowing one day we’ll die. That hasn’t changed yet. I know how you feel, and perhaps you’re right,” she continued, “You’ve shared a lot with Carl. But—but you should wait, be sure of your feelings. That’s not only about you, it’s about Carl, too. You can’t do something like this, either, then pretends nothing happened.” She paused, “It’s—it’s crossing a line.”

And they would never go back then. It was a decision they had to take at the end, but Amanda wanted it to be a well thought decision, not just a spur of moment thing just because she’d decided not to die as a virgin.

Suddenly she wondered how it’d been if Rick had really meant those words, would’ve told her that knowing exactly what it meant, not just a spur of moment he felt the need backing down afterward, but truly meaning it, and drove the thought away from her mind as soon as it appeared too.

No—she—she couldn’t think of such stuff. She just couldn’t. She took a step forward toward the girl again. “Promise me you’ll wait, okay?” she asked, almost imploring, “Please.”

She didn’t know what else to do. In time they would find the answer, figure things out. Beth couldn’t deal with this now, either, not like this. She needed time, she needed a place, a normalcy…

Amanda just didn’t know if she was capable of giving her those things.

# # #

She moved in the dark like a ghost, sobs already threatening to break so hard she knew she couldn’t keep them in even if she covered her mouth. The feel of helplessness was with her during the whole night, when they walked, when they made their cap, when they ate, when they made so little small talk before going to sleep after the sunset.

She found a tree away from them, away from watches, as well, and crouched on the ground. She wanted to be alone, wanted to cry herself out without being worried if anyone would hear her. Small sobs started coming out of her, rising more and more in the dark, turning into breathless gasps as she completely fell on the ground. She skipped over the earth, ending up laying on her side. Her legs were pulled toward her stomach as she rose her arms over her head, tucking her chin in. Her shoulders shook with the intensity of her cries as Amanda just lay over there in the fetal position and cried like a baby.

When strong arms enveloped her from her back after a while, she knew to whom they belonged without a shade of doubt in her. She smelled him—his manly odor, his scent; sweat, leather, earth, blood—always blood on him.

She—she just wanted to be alone—she felt so lost, so helpless… She was going to fuck this up. She couldn’t do anything right. Her cries fastened, shaking all of her body to her core, even pain fading in her mind. Another wave of sobs hit her, and she made a move to break his grip. She—she couldn’t do this. Just another thing she just couldn’t do. But his arms didn’t let her.

Rick tightened his grip, pulling her back at his chest again, “Shss—it’s ‘kay—” he breathed into her ear, his lips brushing over her skin, his head nestled at the crook of her shoulder, his hand softly stroking her hair, “It’s gon’ be okay, I promise.”

She so wanted to believe. Believe in him. Her breath hitched between her sobs, feelings rising in her like a tsunami wave, but she was too tired to fight with them. So, she let it go. She turned around, snugged at him closer and held him tightly as she cried herself out in his embrace.

# # #

His eyes snapped open from his fox’s sleep as Amanda slipped out of his arms at dawn and stalked back to the camp.

Staring at her back, Rick let her flee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm gonna finish this story in 3 or so chapters, so we're really nearing the end.  
> Be seeing you ;)
> 
> Oops, you also might've noticed that Eugene hasn't come clean yet about his lie regarding the cure. Frankly, I never quite understood why he didn't want to go to Washington, as it was his game plan at the first place. Okay, Abraham would get mad at him, but his plan was always get him to do it. I'm regarding it here he would only give up on that idea when he sees Alexandria, a good, protected walled town, not to risk D.C. So, our guys still think the cure might be legit.


	48. Chapter 48

**XVLIII.**

The air was suffocating, heavy with humidity. Above them in the heights a vulture circled across the scorching sky, looking for preys, his screeching cries sounding almost excited. Amanda passed a hand across her sweat running forehead and craned her head up, her whole body aching. She watched the carrion-eating raptor for a few seconds in his flight, then her neck twisting aside looked at the undead lingering at their backs. They were still lurching after them slowly, trailing their steps.

They weren’t many, just a few scattered on the road, so they’d let them, not getting themselves bothered by it. Since the time they’d taken the side road that would eventually lead them to Fairfax County in Alexandria rotters had been their constant company. It must’ve been a few days or a week or more than a week they’d come back to the…civilization again, Amanda honest to god knew no more anymore.

It started feeling like eternity…rinse and repeat, the snake that ate its own tail, an endless repetition. Amanda had always liked routines, patterns, but this was something entirely else. It felt like they were drifting in the purgatory. Mentally, she shook her head. No. They still had a clear objective, a… purpose. _We should never lose our objectives,_ she could almost hear Dawn’s voice in her mind, _or_ _we would lose our integrity._ Had they? Had they lost their integrity? They were still struggling, managing, going to D.C, trying to get a bigger look, trying to find a cure. Something Dawn had _never_ done. She was damn sure Dawn had never done something like _this_ too.

Her head lowered down, her eyes caught of Rick’s beard, now reaching out under his chin. Amanda had stopped wondering how she looked, when the last time she’d brushed her teeth for real. Daryl had showed them how to use shrubs’ barks as toothbrush and edible wild weeds as fresheners, but it wasn’t the same thing. Her only little relief was that she’d gotten laser hair removal years ago, so she at least didn’t need to think on that. Small mercies of these days.

Bitterly she shook her head, lifting her head again, looking at the vulture, her eyes darting another look at the rotters following them, “Which one of us you’re here for?” she asked sotto voice, mumbling. For a second, she couldn’t be sure.

Walking beside her in silence, holding Judith in his arms, Rick shot at her glance, hearing the question even though she hadn’t meant him to.

She was losing it. She was losing…her integrity. Rick’s glance lingered on her. Amanda fastened her steps to reach Beth and Glenn.

Above them, the vulture dived in, giving out another long screech. Amanda kept walking.

# # #

The blasted bird of prey was finally gone. At noon they took a break at the roadside, hiding themselves from the merciless sun in the shadows under the trees. The sideroad was a sort of ridgeway, following a gentle valley at the right side, so the greens weren’t as much as back in the woods, but once again Rick reminded himself Amanda’s words, _beggars can’t be choosers._

The group were scattered around whatever coolness they could find. Carl was still trying to clean the music box’s gears, beside him Beth was making a circle with a piece of branch at the dirt. It looked like the snake that she’d drawn at the tree where they’d buried Maggie, the same figure Rick had seen at Amanda’s ankle. Rick wondered what that was about but didn’t ask. Carol was seated beside them with Judith at her lap, Mika beside them as Amanda stood next to him in their circle. Abraham and Daryl were across him, Abraham looking solemn and dirty, but agitated.

Daryl silently lipped a cigarette he’d given to his friend as Rick crouched down and rolled the map over the dried grass and dirt. The last time he smoked had been when he’d taken Amanda out at that night in the party, sitting under a tree, making out, kissing, smoking… It was also the last time they’d had sex, so he couldn’t have smoked for that, either. Amanda was usually doing her gigs in the days, trying to find food or water whenever she wasn’t fretting over Beth or the kids. At the dark hours she found him at the watch before the dawn, sometimes she cried, sometimes just lay in his arms in silence as he massaged her strained muscles, then left at the sunbreak. He’d tried to kiss her once, his hands crawling toward her bottom, his intention clear, but she'd just hid her head at the hollow of his neck in response. 

Rick knew they had to talk, but he was just too tired—to weary, and they—they needed to survive first. Even the bathroom, the way they’d had been in the house they’d scavenged seemed like a lifetime ago.

Amanda’s mumbled questions echoed in him, and inwardly Rick shook his head. No, that—they could be like that again, have the same ease, the same joy in each other’s company, but first they needed to do _this_.

His eyes cast down, Rick stole a look at the map. Below at the south, the Shirewilt Estate was still circled red. Daryl snuffed out the butt of the cigarette at the tree’s trunk that they’d taken cover under and knelt down. Abraham and Amanda followed him as Rick put stones on the edges of the map to stabilize it on the ground.

He tapped at Arlington at the north. “We make to Arlington,” he started. They were getting close now, only a few miles left. Knowing their hellish journey was coming to an end was giving him relief, but in the meantime, it’d also brought other worries. Many other worries, many other questions. From every little tidbit that the scientist had given them so far, the possibility of this cure working was going slimmer and slimmer in his mind. At the second week, after a long pressing from his side, Rick had realized Eugene knew almost nothing about this top-secret, eyes-only military program, Human Genome Project the eccentric man had dubbed it, he’d been supposedly working on.

“It’s a top-secret military program funded by the government—” the scientist had tried to explain, “It’s a standard procedure that I, as a civilian consultant, am not in every circle of information.”

Amanda had nodded along with Abraham. “He’s right. He wouldn’t have the clearance.”

Yet, Rick still found it…too convenient. At CDC, Jenner had been quite certain about not having a cure for this. “But I know what I know,” the scientist had continued, “Something went wrong with genomes we’ve been experimenting on. I can try to reserve it back.”

_I can try—_

Yes, it sounded too fishy, yet again, they needed to do…something. Amanda had been right on that part, too. He’d thought—hoped perhaps getting a bigger look might help, but so far even changing a State hadn’t changed anything. Things still were in a deadly mess at everywhere.

“We cross the river from there,” he continued though, because they really needed to do _something_ , “We use sideroads as much possible. I-395 might get us quicker,” he pointed at the Capital Beltway that circled D.C. with his dirtied fingertip, “But it’s probably jammed. We can’t risk it.”

Abraham nodded, then stated, his eyes falling on Arlington at the map, “We should check Pentagon once we get to Arlington, too.”

Before Rick could say anything, Amanda shook her head in the discussion, “We’re getting _too_ much ambitious—” she declined, “We need to find a place first and regroup. We can’t go blind in a new city like this—” She waved a hand around, “We barely can stand up. If we make an encounter hostile, we’re screwed.”

The truth from her lips squared his jaw under his beard, his muscles twitching. By so far, they hadn’t encountered any single soul deep in the backwoods, hostile or not, a fact almost had made Rick pray, but Rick was also remembering another thing Amanda had said before… _Luck runs out…_

Yes, it did, and he hadn’t forgotten what was written by blood over the butchered town’s demolished walls, either. _Wolves Not Far._ They never were, too.

“Yeah, officer got a point,” Ford said back, admitting, because she really, a very damn good point, “But Eugene said this’s a top-secret military program. Perhaps Pentagon _is_ the place we should look for.” The ex-soldier turned to Rick, “Deputy?”

Without answering quickly, Rick stayed in silence for a while. Checking Pentagon seemed like a much better plan than going on a hunt after a pipe dream in the city. Getting into the Pentagon wouldn’t be easy, but they needed guns. They still got the weapons from the bastards in the woods and the sub-machine gun Rick had taken from Terminus with a few rounds, but they were still pathetically outgunned for a real conflict.

“Pentagon could still have refugee camps—” Daryl added too, “If we could find them labs—” their hunter continued, “Eugene would get to work.” He paused, “Been there ever?”

The sergeant shook his head, “No. Got BCT at Ford Jackson. That was where we were initially going after we learned Ford Benning had fallen.”

Rick nodded. The military outposts were the most obvious meeting points, much more dangerous just for that reason, too. And Pentagon. No. Amanda was right. They couldn’t go blind in when they were still with Mika and Judith. They had to get them to safety, be sure they were safe and protected before they did anything else.

“A’right. We go to Arlington,” he said, standing up, “We find a place to hole up first, then start looking around when we’re ready.”

# # #

The next morning, even before the dawn, Amanda woke up with the screeching of the damn thing above them.

Her eyes opened in the gloom, as anger filled in her. Swearing under breath, she jerked herself off of Rick’s arms. She wasn’t like a ghost this time, and this time she didn’t fucking care, either. Rick had already gotten wiser to her ridiculous act anyway, even though he let her slip off each morning. “I fucking hate this bird!” she hissed as Rick opened his eyes before she marched back to the camp.

Back at the clearing where they’d passed the night before she’d gone to find Rick at his last watch, the group was waking up, too. Her eyes wandered around, spotting Mika first, her doll clutched against her chest tightly. It got dirtied on the road, but the little girl was still holding it. She found Judith in Carl’s arms the next, nested beside Beth and Daryl as they slowly rose up. They still hadn’t found a toy for the baby. The thought brought a sadness to her, her anger dissipating.

She crouched down beside them and started gathering flowers. A tiara—she could at least make a tiara for the baby, give her something pretty.

# # #

Beth drew another circle at the dirt idly. It was noon again, the sun high in the sky, so they’d made another stop. Beth wasn’t that much tired, but the kids were, so it was okay.

Or perhaps, it was just another routine. Even on the road they were doing the same things each morning, each noon, each night repetitiously.

Beth looked at the snake she’d drawn—it was really a circle, never ending.

She remembered all the things she’d dreamed of before the turn—what Beth Greene wanted to make in the life—write her songs, go to the city, fall in love, get married, have children—many, many children—be happy until the end of her days with all of her family.

Once that had been her dream. Once… _Once upon a time there was a girl…and she died._ Her eyes skipped at her friend. Sitting beside her in silence, Carl was working on that music box again. Beth couldn’t understand why. It was just a broken thing. Once it’d been pretty—but like everything else in their life, it was just broken now. Once upon a time…

She heaved a sigh, too. Carl brought the box at his lips and huffed at it, then closed the lid. He took a breath, as if he was waiting, then opened it.

It didn’t work. Carl sighed. Beth barely held a snort inside her, the ones Amanda had used to make around. “Stop it—” she told him, “It’s broken.”

Carl rolled off his shoulders, “Dad said the gears must be dusted. I cleaned it but—” he stopped, then announced firmly, “I’m gonna ask Daryl.”

Beth shrugged, and made the snake’s head, “What’s that?” Carl asked, looking at her drawing. He’d seen her draw it before but hadn’t asked until today.

“Ouroboros,” Beth answered absently, her good hand still drawing, “A symbol represents the circle of life,” she continued the explanation how Amanda had told her, “Amanda got it at her ankle. Saw it there.”

“The snake’s eating its own tail?” Carl observed, looking closer.

Beth nodded, shrugging another shoulder off, “Yeah…birth, death, rebirth…”

Carl nodded thoughtfully, as if he understood, but his eyes were almost empty. The next, he placed the music box down, took out his gun and started cleaning it.

Her hand stopping momentarily, she looked at her friend again. For a moment, she saw the distant boy who had used to clean his gun in the prison methodically, but Carl…Carl really wasn’t that boy anymore. It was still him, but he’d grown up. _He’s almost fifteen…_

He—he looked much older than fifteen. Beth…Beth herself looked much older than seventeen, too. Sometimes it was getting harder to remember that before all of this had started, the most pressing problem for her had been how she was going to celebrate her upcoming sweet sixteen. She’d been fifteen, careless, and stupid… the very opposites of everything Carl was now.

How—how she wished they could’ve been just that again—stupid, careless, and fifteen…and friends?

She didn’t know. Her eyes skipped at her friend again, her talk with Amanda coming back to her. She’d been trying not to think on it much after that day, had decided to regard it as a moment of folly after how Amanda had cornered her, but somehow her mind ended up finding it, not the first time either.

_I’ll ask Carl…_

It—it’d just come to her. She just wanted to not to die as a virgin. Even though she couldn’t be the Beth she’d always thought she would’ve been any more, she at least wanted to get that part, experience that before it was too late. Before it got taken away from her, as well. That fear had been with her since that night in the woods, since the night she’d experienced how cruel people could be at the first hand. It’d been easier forget the fear after she’d found Maggie, after her family had gotten back together again, but Maggie was gone now. There were no guarantees in this life. Everything step, every breath, everything was a risk in this life like how her father had told them.

But her and Carl… No. They were friends. He was the only real friend she had. Glenn, Amanda, Rick, Daryl, Carol; they were all her family. Joan, Noah, Sasha, Bob; they were still people at D, close but not the same. Sergeant Fox, Rosita, Eugene, they were like teammates, Riccardo and John were just acquaintances. Father Gabriel was just a coward she pretended as if he didn’t exist.

Carl—Carl _was_ her friend.

She shook her head and threw off the branch in her hands. “Daryl and Joan are goin’ to look for water,” she told her friend, standing up, “Let’s join them. I’m bored.”

# # #

Amanda crouched down in front of Carol and Mika and placed the tiara at the top of Judith’s sunshine kissed frizzled baby hair.

There it was—she looked very pretty.

She wondered then if they still could make a toy for the baby. She’d been so adamant on it, even thinking of making a baby book before shit hit the fan again, then it’d slipped off her mind. But that wasn’t an excuse, would _never_ be—

The damn thing screeched in the heights. This time determinedly Amanda ignored it.

# # #

He dug into dirt slowly and found creeping worms. Joan stared at the tracker open-mouthed.

“Please, tell me you aren’t gon’ do that?” she asked even when he started cleaning off the dirt from their dangling forms between his fingers. Instead of an answer, he drew his head backwards and threw them in his mouth. Joan flinched.

“It’s protein—” Daryl said back offhandedly, _swallowing_.

He stood up and turning around started sauntered away with that swagger. Much like everything of him, the words were casual, too, hinting a bit of his edginess that if you pushed, a shove would follow, but Joan also knew he’d done it only because he wouldn’t need to eat anything from whatever pitiful thing they would manage to catch today. So that they could eat _more_. Under his tough, rough shell, Daryl Dixon got a soft, good heart like that.

For a second or so, Joan thought of the condoms still in her pocket, and looked at his swaggering figure, deft movements, strong muscles, and a good heart. She swallowed low in her throat and caught him before the distance between them got longer. Good heart or not, if she stayed behind too long, he still would bite her head off.

But before she could catch him, he stopped suddenly, raising his arm in the air, blocking her way too. She stood a few inches away from his extended arm as he stared ahead in silence. Joan followed his look, then spotted it… a mud snake slowly crawling over the dried foliage.

“Ever ate snake?” he asked her roughly, his eyes still looking ahead.

Joan sighed, “No…but…there’s a first time for everything, eh?”

Almost as if he were surprised, he half turned to her, lowering his arm, and his lips moved, “Wait until eat a damn snail…” 

In answer, she sighed again.

Half of an hour later, he was wrapping the skinny creature around his left forearm. “We wouldn’t get sick because of it, right?” Joan asked, eyeing it with suspicion. Eating wild animals was always dangerous, as medical professional they always had used to oppose it, berated people who had ended up in ER because of it. But it was a different lifetime.

In this lifetime, Daryl gave her half nod, “Yeah, not this kind. Don’t worry.”

She nodded back. They started walking back to the camp. It was getting late. Soon sun was going to settle down. They wouldn’t make any more miles today. She wondered how long it was going to take before they arrived at Arlington like it’d been decided today. Two days more, another week? A month? This was getting worse, worse, and worst. Amanda had told them at noon they were going to try find a place for them to hide in, then were going to check Pentagon.

For the rest of the day Joan had wondered what she should do, what she really _had_ _to_ do? Trying to survive in the wild, learning how to track, hunt, keeping herself fed was one thing, but going on a real mission, on a real supply run, off to Pentagon of all places, she just didn’t know. She’d wanted to learn, yes, learn how to protect herself, how to keep herself alive but that?

Gorman’s hissing voice filled with hatred came to her again suddenly, his backhand landing on her, throwing her off to the bed… _you, ungrateful bitch—_

She shook her head, trying to shoo away the memory, the way slaps landed on, the way his body trapped her, his hands tightening over her wrists… _You, ungrateful bitch…_ It was the asshole’s the most favorite thing to call her. Ungrateful bitch.

Was she? Was she an ungrateful bitch? She had never thanked Daryl for all the things he’d done for her, coming to find them in the wilderness in the middle of the night at the top. Gorman had always used to make her to thank him for _everything_ — _all I want is a little bit appreciation, you ungrateful bitch._

She paused, giving out a shaking breath. Daryl stopped and turned to look at her in question. “Daryl—” She lifted her eyes at him, and noticed perhaps the first time how a clear blue his eyes were, how…clean, “I—I—” She shook her head, “Thank you—” she said then as he scowled, “For all the things you’ve been doing for me-for us. I really appreciate it.” She paused as another you, ungrateful bitch turned in her mind… She was very grateful, and she wanted him to know it, “I wanted you to know it.”

 _I’m not gonna fuck you—I still want you to know it…_ He just hmphed in response, a little noise out of his nose, one of the many kinds like his shrugs, but this time Joan couldn’t be sure what it meant. They started walking again, “You ever ate snails?” she asked quietly, mostly to fill the silence.

He gave off an absent nod, “Yeah. Got lost one day as a kid. Spent three days in the woods. Ate all kinds of things.”

“Really?” she asked, turning to look at him. He gave off another shrug. “Three days?”

Another indifferent nod. “How old were you?” she asked further, crossing a tree log.

“I’unno… Nine or ten, I think.”

Twisting aside as she landed at the other side of the tree log, she gave him a look, imaging a little kid around Mika’s age lost in a place like this, _all alone_. She shuddered, “Must be awful,” she muttered, “Your parents must’ve turned crazy.”

This time a shrug followed. _Whatever._ Her eyes turned to him. He stayed silent for a second before he said, so lowly Joan almost missed it, “Mom was gone—Papa…he didn’t notice.”

Something in her chest twinged. She stared ahead, not trusting herself to look at him. They walked in silence, but the twinge in her was getting deeper and deeper. She felt she had to do something, even though she wasn’t sure what it was. _Ungrateful bitch—_

Taking a step to get closer to him, she grabbed his hand and gave a gentle squeeze. She’d seen Amanda and Deputy did it before, their fingertips brushing each other lightly to give each other strengthen. It was beyond their strange companionship, but as of the moment, Joan didn’t care.

Oddly, he didn’t seem to, either. His eyes skipped at her briefly for a second, but he kept his hand in hers.

A few steps later, their hands still tangled lightly, they saw another cabin in the woods.

# # #

It wasn’t a cabin, like Daryl had announced, but a barn.

Amanda had never been in a barn before. Daryl remarked, sniffing, it smelled like horse shit as they stepped inside. She figured the scent must’ve been that. The air was stale with smells. The wooden floors were covered with horse dung, dirt, and hay. Amanda had never slept in the hay, too, never had a roll in the hay, either, but she _didn’t_ think on that. Rick had tried to kiss her once before, trying to initiate more, but she refused, fearing his intensity would break her…integrity further. Even imaging his keen, sharp eyes on hers as he moved over her was enough to make her stomach twist tighter.

Beneath the smells, Amanda still could smell decay. There was a rotter inside, she was sure of it. You just learned the distinction between the undead and other things. There was always the death stench now. She couldn't even remember the last time she didn't smell it. Though, it was still good having a roof over their heads.

They found the rotter behind a separating wooden wall at the back. It was a tiny room, fifty sq foot at most. At the backside there was tinted window, now covered with dirt and mud, beneath it a broken, dirty mattress, and a rotter over it. She was so rotten, so fragile, she couldn’t even lurch at them when they opened the door.

In her hand, she was still holding a gun. Beth looked at it, “She must’ve wanted to do it—” she remarked, her eyes on the undead, “But couldn’t.”

Despite everything, ending your life wasn’t still easy. Wordlessly, Rick closed on in her and ended her misery. He took the gun and checked the rounds. They left her there afterward, settling in the hall. Amanda didn’t press down for a funeral this time but covered her with the blanket at the mattress.

Daryl started skinning that snake he’d found as Abraham and Rosita made the fire inside a bucket. The bucket smelled disgusting with something Amanda guessed as sour milk, but they didn’t comment. Rick and Carl started searching the other parts of the barn, Amanda following them. Beth stayed with Carol, Mika and Judith. With the corner of her eyes, Amanda saw the pastor taking off his white collar out of his black jacket as they looked around and dropped it in the slowly burning fire.

Even if someone saw it, no one made a word. They were all in silence. The only sound were cracks of branches as they burned in the bucket and the creaks of the woods they made as they walked.

Her mouth felt dry. They couldn’t have found any water today, so they had to ration from what was left from yesterday. Amanda had only taken a sip, giving it up for the kids. She wondered if the snake would get them thirstier.

Snake meat—she almost shook her head. She’d heard the stories, soldiers going on MIA, surviving with snakes and snails, drinking the frost from the leaves in the morning. Pausing, she made a mental note to herself to check out the leaves for the frost the next morning.

At the left corner, there was a small wooden cabinet beside the stables. Rick walked to it slowly. He opened the lid, and stopped, his back turning rigid. Amanda sidestepped to see what was inside and stopped as well as soon as she did.

At the top shelf, over a few buckets and shovels, and a gas lamp they saw canned dogfood. The dog had already gone, like the horses, but the food had stayed.

Rick stared at it as Carl—and Amanda—

None of them talked. Amanda wasn’t sure if she could say a word without crying, so she just stood as well, staring at the cans. Carl took one of the dusted cans, and Amanda almost cried out a no. He—he couldn’t do it, couldn’t…eat _it_. Rick didn’t do anything this time, didn’t try to stop him, just watched his son. His head bowed, Carl stared at the dogfood another second, then without a word, he placed it back on the shelf.

He turned and went back to Beth’s side. She turned aside, her eyes finding Rick. His jaw squared under his bushy beard, he closed the lid.

They ate the snake in silence too.

# # #

The night had completely fallen when the snake was finished. Abraham, Rosita, Daryl took the first watches, going out. The fire made long shadows at the wooden as they built it stronger, sheltering the chill of the night outside. Beth, Carl, Mika crawled at the corner beside the fire, the baby cocooned with Rick’s jacket in his brother’s arms. Sasha and Bob took another corner, snuggling each other. Father Gabriel stood away from them as well together with the young men and Eugene, laying to sleep over the hays in the stables.

So, they sat around their campfire inside a barn that smelled like horseshit, after eating a mud snake, she’d learned, looking at cracking fire. Carol made shadow puppets at the wooden wall using her hands, a bird taking flight, a rabbit, a dog… all kinds of animals. Judith’s attention was picked, looking at animal shadows so intently. Amanda smiled. When Carol made a stag, Mika squealed so loud, they had to warn the girl to keep quiet.

Carol stopped her play, lowering her head to give the little girl a kiss as Mika hugged the older woman tightly around her waist, smiling big. Amanda felt a pang in her chest, seeing them together, and realized with a clarity that she would be just a protector to the little girl, not someone like Carol…a mother figure. Her hands were good for killing rotters, not to make shadow hand puppets. Her eyes moved toward Judith—

"They're gonna be okay,” Carol said, following her gaze toward the children after they settled down at the corner, taking the gas lamp they’d found. The youth’s energy gone, they fell into a deep, bleak silence.

Carol’s gentle voice continued, her eyes still on the kids with Beth and Carl, “They bounce back more than any of us do.”

Sitting beside her in front of the fire, Rick stole a glance toward the kid too. He bowed his head then, throwing a branch into fire, his other hand holding his folded leg against his chest, “I used to feel sorry for kids that have to grow up now in this,” he suddenly said slowly, dropping another branch, “But I think I got it wrong.” Amanda’s head turned to him, “Growing up is getting used to the world. This’s easier for them."

Carol shook her head, “This isn't the world,” the woman said, a firm timber entering into her voice, turning her gentle tones to stern. Amanda looked at the grey-haired woman again. Beneath her motherly figure, this woman was still the same one who had murdered two people in cold blood to protect her own lot. Amanda couldn’t hold any grudges for her not after everything they’d survived, not after she’d saved their skin at Terminus, but underneath of her softness, Carol still had a spine of steel.

And, the older woman had a point. _This’s the real life,_ Rick had told her that night when she’d taken his hand. Her hand went to her neck and she held her necklace, the little snowflake… _It feels like a nightmare…_ She’d been right on that, as well. It still felt like a nightmare, in which you couldn’t just wake up.

From Carol’s other side, Glen shook his head, “It might be.” His words came out scratchy after his long silence, and he repeated, “It might be.”

She shook her head. It might be, but they still couldn’t quit. “That's the quitter talk,” so she said, squaring her shoulders. They struggled, strived, survived. Otherwise it was giving up.

But Glenn only said, “It's reality.”

Rick watched their exchange, lifting his head, “The reality is that you only play the hand you’re dealt with in life,” she returned firmly, “And _this_ is the hand what we’re dealt.” They just had to endure it. Until…until…

“Until we see otherwise—” Rick suddenly said, as if he’d read her thoughts. Her head snapped at him, “—this’s what we have to live with.”

His eyes found hers, giving her a look before he turned it on others too, “When I was a kid,” he started with a low voice, bowing his head an inch again, “I asked my grandpa once if he ever killed any Germans in the war. He wouldn't answer. He said that was grown-up stuff, so... so I asked if the Germans ever tried to kill him.” Pausing, he lifted his head back, and looked at them again.

Amanda felt the keen intense eyes bore through her again, before Rick continued, “That was when he got real quiet. He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory,” he went on, dropping his voice even lower, “Every day he woke up and told himself, 'Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war.'"

Didn’t they all live to fight another day now? Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep with two eyes open, rinse and repeat…

“And then after a few years of pretending he was dead,” Rick continued, “he made it out alive. That's the trick of it, I think. We do what's necessary and keep going. But no matter what we find in DC, I know we'll be okay. Because _this_ is how we survive." He paused for a second to look at them again, "We tell ourselves... that we are the walking dead.”

The trick to win the game—Amanda almost snorted. They’d been cheating the game without even knowing it.

But didn’t he once said whatever they did the house always won at the end? You—you couldn’t win against Death, couldn’t cheat it. It was always there, always won at the end. She stood up.

She started walking towards the entrance in silence. “Hey—” Rick called after her, but she didn’t stop.

She heard footsteps following her. She still didn’t stop. Until she came towards the barn’s entrance. “Amanda—” he called her again at her back.

She turned around to face him, “If we’re gonna pretend we’re the living dead, Rick—” she told him then, “If we’re gonna cheat the game, you know we have to stop _this_ —” She waved a hand between them. “We _can’t_ pretend we’re dead while sleeping in each other’s arms—” However brief it was, each night they’d been sleeping in each other’s arms under a tree. They just couldn’t do that and pretend it didn’t mean…anything.

She shook her head, then realized something else, too, that she’d never asked him that question before. It was always him asking her _first_. “So do you—” so she asked him, “Do you want us to stop, Rick?”

In a heartbeat, he was on her. He held her at her upper shoulders. “You know what my answer is, I _already_ told it.” Her head spun for a second as she realized what he was talking about—that moment they’d both closed off on a silent agreement— _I love you._

“We do what we need to do and then we get to live. Together.” His eyes alit, they were fixated on hers, “If I have to, I’ll kill all the bastards from here up to D.C until I find us a place to settle in. _Don’t_ ask me that question again, Amanda. We're too far gone to turn back now.”

She blinked at the intensity of his look, and the fierceness of his words—but before she could open her mouth, the door of the barn opened, interrupting their talk.

Their heads snapped at it. First Rosita walked, followed by Abraham. At the end of the line, there was Daryl, holding a stranger’s arm.

They both stared at the man.

Clean—Amanda noticed at the first thing. The man was jarringly clean, even down to his hair, cut and trimmed meticulously as if by a professional. He was a tall man, Caucasian probably around her age, early 30s. He had light brown hair, light green eyes, and a good sturdy field jacket. All clean. Her eyes narrowed, realizing what it meant as the same time Rick marched at them. She was also sure Rick understood what that meant, too.

“Who is he?” he demanded with the same fierceness he’d just directed at her seconds ago, stopping in front of the Daryl and the man as Amanda followed him.

“He found us—” Daryl answered, and the hunter’s eyes found Rick’s, “He wants to talk to you.”

Rick turned to the newcomer as his jaw settled, “Who are you?” he repeated the question to the man this time.

“I’m Aaron,” the man answered quickly, almost cordially, his expression almost…friendly. Rick stared at him blankly. His eyes skipped at Daryl for a second, as if to check it correct after Rick’s stare, “He—he's the Deputy, right?”

No one made a noise. The man took their lack of response as affirmative because he turned back to Rick, “I was looking for you,” he then stated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god! Here we're. Finally, Aaron comes in. FINALLY!
> 
> And finally, we're the walking dead speech. We got multipable POVs too as I'm trying to connect all the loose ends before they move to Alexandria, but don't expect any real resolution. These last chapters are more like set ups for the next book. I can't believe I made Joan and Daryl hold hands either! She just got moved, and held his hand while I wrote like Beth did in the show! I think in the next book, they will have much more screen time, as I really want to delve how a relationship between them would evolve as both being abused people.  
> I was also going to make them eat dogs like in the show, but they were already too much miserable, and I wanted Amanda, Rick, Carl alltogether find the dog food, all of them having a moment. So I switched to snakes.
> 
> Frankly, I imagined Rick and Amanda's moment with 'the we're the walking dead speech' a bit different, but they've evolved too much, running in their circles, it's a bit hard to deal with them right now. Amanda and Rick's relationship is two steps ahead and one backward sort of style thing. As they move forward, they also retreat, like Amanda even running away from sex now. The vulture thing was inspired a scene from Witcher too, with Yennefer burying a baby she couldn't save. Yennefer and her cravings for a child had been a big inspriation while I was creating Amanda, along with Daryl, and that particular scene was so sad in the show.
> 
> Beth and her 'stupid, careless, and fifteen…and friends?' is possibly going to be the foundation of her weirdly evolving semi-platonic relationship with Carl. I'd actually used that theme for another story for a long, long time ago, and I thought I would work with it here too. For the sake of my sanity, I checked the TV Show's Wikia again, and Beth was categorized as 17-18 at Season 5, so I'm taking her here in her late 17, as Carl almost 15, like Enid and Carl at the show.
> 
> I think in two chapters, I can mark this story as complete. YAY for me. :D


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell there! I'm back!  
> Sorry for the lateness. You might've noticed that I started editing the story with the help of a fellow author, and that job takes a lot of time. (We're currently at the 15th chapter) I also got stuck with this, rewrote it a couple of times, but finally it's done. You also will see the narrative is much better read this time, because it's beta-read! All kudos go to Dark Tidings, because she's awesome :)  
> Only one chapter left before the finale.
> 
> Enjoy.

**XLIX.**

“I was looking for you,” the man stated as Rick glared, anger winding against his edges, barely holding on the urge not to punch the man where he stood. He was left with so little patience, and the man had _just_ interrupted a moment between him and Amanda.

He was simply waiting now as Rick’s expression turned even sterner. Walking into the barn, coming onto them like that? _He found us,_ Daryl had remarked, and Rick hadn’t missed the meaning. This stranger, this _clean_ stranger, didn’t get caught out in the woods. He’d approached Daryl and Abraham willingly, asking to talk.

Rick wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was sure he wasn’t liking it. Not even a bit. For a moment he wondered if the man was just that naïve or stupid, making himself known like this, or was he just faking it?

The clean shaven face, the earnest look, open honest expression, friendly manners… just to unwind you, get inside your barriers. _Terminus_ , his mind screamed. _I was looking for you._ The words seemed dubious enough.

Or stupid. The very thing they couldn’t afford. Even Carl knew that you shouldn’t get caught up with big groups, looking for trouble. He’d learned his lesson.

Apparently, not this guy.

Besides, Rick was _already_ having a talk. With the woman he _loved_ , just as she asked him if he wanted to end it, second guessing what they had another time, asking him _again_ maybe they should stop it as if…as if they hadn’t already gone too far now, as if he _could_ stop... Stop it. Stop _them_.

_Don’t ask me that again, Amanda!_

Rick seriously didn’t want to hear that question ever again from her. He didn’t want to stop, no. Quite the opposite, he wanted to go all way. She belonged with him, at his side, just as she should. They did what they had to do, then they got to live. Together. It was just that simple, not even complicated anymore.

Rick was about to tell her that, too, that he meant what he said, that there was no doubt, no hesitation in him anymore. He was just going to tell her again that he loved her, but before he could, he got interrupted.

His eyes moved over their company. The stranger couldn’t have picked any worse timing. And Rick was _really_ getting tired of this. Anger swept over him again, washing him entirely, firing blood in his veins… He was _so_ getting tired of this—

“I know you have questions,” the man started into the silence—

Rick’s head snapped up at him again. The next moment, he found himself marching toward the entrance, his right hand fisting against his side.

“I can explain—” the man, Aaron as he introduced himself, continued before Rick got closer and stopped him.

With a punch in the face.

“ _Rick_!” Amanda exclaimed as Aaron dropped on the ground with the force of his right swing, already unconscious.

If he was a bastard, then he deserved it. If he was a fool, then _that_ should teach him his lesson.

Shaking his hand in the air, Rick knelt down beside the unconscious man and started searching him. “He had a gun,” Daryl said, leaning over him, “Took it before we came in.”

Taking the gun from Daryl, Rick nodded. So, the man had a gun and gave it openly. “Said he was a recruiter,” the hunter supplied in.

Amanda asked above him. “Recruiter of what?”

“Of people—” Daryl answered with uncommon bafflement tone in his voice. Rick raised his head, halting his hands in the search.

A recruiter of people? Was there even anything left like that in the world now? Daryl gave them another look. “He said he looks for people to bring ‘em in.”

“Really?” Amanda asked, her voice highly skeptical. Rick carried the same sentiment. Hearing the commotion, the others slowly came towards the entrance, too.

“What happened?” Carol asked, then noticed the body on the ground. “Who’s he?”

Rick drew up back to his feet. The man was clean. He had found a hunting knife, but other than that, he wasn’t in the possession of anything. He attached the knife’s scabbard to his belt. “He looks like our last problem,” Rick rattled off, tucking the knife into its sheath.

He leaned down to take the man’s backpack that had dropped on the wooden floor with him. He handed it to Amanda. “Look inside. Try to find what this is all about.”

“You know maybe we could've just _ask_ _ed_ him if you didn’t punch him!” she retorted under her breath, taking the backpack from him. Rick decided to let the snippy comment go by.

He turned to Daryl again. “He walked up to you?” he asked, his voice still having a terse note in it, but this time mixed with doubt. How anyone would walk up on Daryl, Rick began to wonder, but Daryl shook his head.

“Nah—” the hunter replied. “I heard him, but let him come. He was trailing us, but ain’t getting close.”

“He was spying on you,” Rick stated. Daryl nodded.

His jaw squared. “Then he came out, raised hands and all—” Daryl continued, his clearer blue eyes finding Rick's. “Said he’s comin’ from a community, said he’s a recruiter.” Daryl paused. “Said he wanted to talk to Deputy.”

Rick scowled even harder. “You two go out again. We need to be prepared. Scout the area, look for others. He couldn’t be alone in the woods.” A spy or a recruiter couldn’t be that stupid. “His friends might be close.”

He turned to Glenn. The Korean was standing, still in silence, but _watching_. That would do for the moment. “Glenn, Carl, take the lookout.” Rick pointed at the windows at both sides.

As they all started on their appointed duties, Rick bent down and grabbed the spy at the back of the collar of his jacket. He started dragging the man over the hay, dirt, and dung covered floor towards the barn’s hall. “Amanda—” Rick called out to her again, his hand pulling the man. The guy didn’t look like it, but he weighed a lot. “Round up everyone. We stay close.”

Throwing the backpack back on the ground, she hastened her steps and started herding up the kids and teens. She raised her arm toward the left side. “Mika, at the corner.” Carol started bringing the girl toward the corner Amanda had pointed out, holding Judith too. “Noah, Beth—you two,” Amanda instructed and stopped looking around. “Where’s John and Riccardo?”

“They’re with Eugene in the stables,” Beth said, already moving. “I go get them.”

There was only one entrance, the door at the front. The windows were only the ones at each side of the door, so they didn’t need to cover a lot of access points. Rick threw the man towards one of the wooden beams that supported the structure and started tying his hands behind his back with zip ties.

The man wanted to talk with Deputy. Yeah, Rick wanted to talk to him, too, on his own terms.

Returning from the corner, Amanda crouched a few feet away from them, and started piling out the contents of the man’s pack as Beth returned with the young men and the scientist and took them towards the safest corner.

They sat encircling Carol, Mika, and Judith as Rick tightened the zip ties, looping the man's hands around the wooden beam. He raised his head and checked the windows, seeing Glenn and Carl standing watch.

Then he heard Amanda take a hitched breath. Twisting on his heel, after securing the _recruiter_ , Rick turned to her as she was pulling out a set of headphones connected to a listening device. She twirled the miniature dish antenna that was attached to the handle, her brows furrowing.

Rick shook his head, walking to her. “Hmph. So he _was_ spying on us,” he bit off as the others looked at the thing, too.

Amanda half nodded, leaving the device on the wooden floor. “Guess it explains how he knows _you_ ,” she mumbled. “Might’ve heard us talking.”

Rick knelt down beside her. She’d stopped calling him Deputy a long time ago, but the sergeant still called him with his former title. And Amanda as officer. His eyes turned toward the still unconscious man. The man must have also known they had cops and a soldier among them.

Amanda pulled out three little jars, her brows furrowing. “What’s these?”

Rick took one of the jars and raised it. He shook the jar and saw the mash inside wobble like a jelly. “It—it looks like marmalade.”

Amanda took out a protein bar next. “He’s stocked good. Got water, protein bars, canned food… _marmalade_ ,” she added bitterly.

She stood up, taking the food, and started walking. “What’re you doing?” Rick asked, snagging her hand as he got back to his feet.

“I’m gonna give ‘em to the kids,” she said, as if it was so obvious. “Mika eats the protein bar. We can mix marmalade with acorns for Judith.”

Rick shook his head. “Mika can get the protein bar, it’s sealed,” he said. “But the marmalade is homemade. We can’t give it to Judy.”

Her mouth turned down with a grimace, and she pointed at the man with her head. “He was carrying it. To eat, obviously,” she said in return. “Judith needs proper nourishment.”

Rick shook his head again. “No.”

“ _Rick_ —” she stressed out—but he cut her off.

“We don’t know for sure, Amanda—” he told her, taking the jar from her, and turned aside. “Let’s make a trial.”

He started walking back to the man. He nudged the man at his side with the tip of his boots. “He got a spoon?” Rick asked, turning aside to Amanda.

Amanda nodded and brought him to the spoon she found inside the backpack. Rick nudged the man again, opening the jar.

The _spy_ stirred, groaning, and Rick crouched in front of him. He brought the jar up to his nose and smelled it. Apples. It was made of apples. Common enough. Amanda came to his side as Rick took a half spoon of the marmalade. The man started coming to fully, raising up from the floor.

His eyes opened, and before he could do anything else, Rick brought the spoon to his lips. “Eat.”

The recruiter stared at him wildly… “Eat,” Rick repeated sternly. The man still looked at him.

With a heavy sigh beside him, Amanda remarked, “We’ll give it to the baby, but you have to try it first.”

The man lifted his head up to look at her. “D-do you think I’d poison you with _it_?” he asked in disbelief.

Despite her own words seconds ago, Amanda just shrugged. “I don’t know… you were spying on us…so…”

“Eat.” Rick completed, holding the spoon closer to the man’s mouth.

The recruiter opened his mouth and took the spoon in. Rick pulled it back a second later as he swallowed. Rick watched his throat move until the motion stopped.

Satisfied, he stood up, handing the jar back to Amanda. She started walking toward Beth. Everyone was watching the newcomer with careful eyes, only Glenn and Carl’s attention half directed outside. Rick wondered how it was out there, how many of this man's people were out there, and if they needed to round up a proper search team more than watches and lookouts. There had to be others. He couldn’t come alone like this. It was…it was madness.

Hovering above the man, Rick glanced down. Rick could see a spot of redness was starting around at the corner of the man’s mouth where he’d taken the worst of his knuckles… Rick frowned harder. He was—he was fucking hating this!

His eyes darted over Amanda for a second as she gave the protein bar and the marmalade jar to Beth. He shouldn’t deal with this. He—he should get Amanda out of this dung pit, take her in his arms under a tree, show her that was where she belonged. Show her…show her he meant it, every word… _I love you._

He—he loved her. He did. He should show her that _too_ , not this.

His ire pricking at him again, Rick turned to the man. “I’m gonna ask this only once, _Aaron_ ,” he started, putting a careful edge in the name. “So you better not lie to me.”

“How many of your people are out there?” Rick asked.

The man, Aaron, shook his head. “There’s no one.”

“I told you not to—”

“I’m _not_ lying, I came alone,” the man interrupted him. “Look, I know this is not the best way to make the first contact—” Rick frowned. _First contact_ … Jesus Christ, this was turning batshit crazy. “Like I said before you started talking with your fists—” Pausing, his lips quirked, and Rick frowned more. “I can explain—”

“I punched you in the face—” Rick cut him off this time. “And are you smiling at me?”

“I know things can get heated, Deputy—” the man replied coolly. “This is not my first tango. I used to do NGO business in the Nigerian Delta.”

Rick shook his head. “Why were you listening to us?” he demanded, getting to the topic as he crouched just outside the man’s legs. He indicated the device Amanda had left on the ground beside the backpack with a tilt of his head.

Giving Judith to Beth as she started opening the jar, Carol walked to the backpack. Amanda followed her as well. “I was trying to decipher what kind of people you are,” the man answered, his eyes following the women as they approached.

Rick scoffed. “And what kind of people are we?”

“The kind that our community needs—”

“Rick—” Carol’s small but firm voice this time interrupted them as she took something red out of the bag. Rick’s eyes narrowed as much as hers, seeing the red metal tube. A signal flare.

Amanda took it and walked towards them. She raised the flare. “I thought you said you were alone.”

“I told you I came alone,” Aaron answered, still holding onto his pleasant manners. Rick seriously wondered if it was his game play, remembering what had happened where the tracks met. “There’s no one outside, but my teammate…he waits for me at our camp. We didn’t want to risk it.”

“Is it just two of you?” Rick asked in disbelief. It was the stupidest plan he’d ever heard. Coming out in the woods to look for people like that? Or he was just lying.

Rick’s eyes found the recruiter again, trying to assess. Clean clothes, friendly face, nice words… _Terminus_ , his mind screamed once more. The bodies at the racks… the trough, the bat, his people, the barbecue at the front… the smell.

He grimaced. “Where’s your camp?”

Aaron still shook his head. “Look, I’m not your enemy. I’m here to help,” he insisted. “Please, check my backpack. At the front, there’re pictures of my community.”

Amanda unzipped the front pocket as Carol held the bag, and true to Aaron’s words, took out old fashioned Polaroid pictures. Bowing her head, she quickly started looking at them, with Carol taking a step closer. “They got walls—” she said, surfing through the pictures.

“The town was built as an eco-friendly sustainability project, called Alexandria’s Dream—” the recruit supplied. Rick almost scoffed. Aaron, turning to him, gave him a smile. “We call it just Alexandria. We have our own solar grid, cisterns, and eco-based sewage filtration." And that meant they had power and water.

Rick stood up as Amanda walked to him. She handed him the pictures. The first picture he saw had the solar grid the man mentioned, a field of solar panels meticulously put where he imagined would be the backyard of the complex, gathering sunlight.

In the second, he saw a large three-story Imperial style white building, just standing on shore of a large lake. The lake seemed artificial, but it was big. Around the shore, there were flower beds and trees, and between them were scattered picnic tables, benches. There was a large patio outside the white building, holding a barbecue space with enough room to accommodate fifty or more people. His eyes beheld the folding chairs and round tables. Behind his eyes came the folding chairs and round table Amanda had brought to the church, laid broken now, left to the dead.

The anger found him again, his teeth gritting. He barely held himself not to tear up the pictures to tiny shreds. Suppressing the urge, he passed to another picture.

“It’s a grand complex—” the man continued, and Rick saw the walls.

But they—they weren’t walls. No. They had tall steel plates that circled the town, around twenty feet tall, supported with iron beams. Rick realized those people, whoever they were, had constructed the wall themselves. 

“Built for the capital’s upper middle class that sought refuge from the capital’s chaos but still wanted to be close, the complex has a lot of stuff a city also would offer,” the man intoned, sounding like he was repeating from a brochure. “We have a fitness center, a small theater, playgrounds for kids, basketball fields, tennis courts. We also have an indoor swimming pool, Jacuzzi, sauna—”

Rick felt his head turn… This…this was madness. Couldn’t be true. They should stick to the plan, continue on to Arlington. They needed a place first, yes, but not like this…

“And you—you’re ready to share them with strangers?” Amanda asked beside him, her tone having the same disbelief Rick had.

_Good people share what they have with people they care, Rick…_

His eyes turned to the man again. They didn’t even know _them_. That was only what had left deep down: Us. And them. Others. Dead or living alike. _We do what we need to do and then we get to live._

Aaron’s expression was sympathetic. "We have limited resources, but now one is much more limited than the others," he answered. "Good and capable people. Our leader believes a community’s sustainability in the long run isn’t essential to its resources, but to its people and the system they build.”

Amanda shook her head quickly. “What you say would be applied to small groups of people to recruit them,” she pointed out, assessing the man’s words, “but we’re a big group.”

They have nineteen people, including kids and a baby, to be precise. In the past, they all had done recruitments, but never like this. They never went out specifically to look for people, for survivors. They just encountered people and decided to take them or not. There was a very simple, logical explanation for that, too. With their limited resources, big groups only meant trouble. They created a disturbance in the established order, a shift. In the prison, they’d accepted Woodbury survivors only because they had to.

And it was another time, another life now.

Now they were here, and this man, this _stranger_ who didn’t even know their names was offering freely, what his people, his family craved, what they needed, what Rick couldn’t still give them. A home that was protected, where they could be safe.

No. It couldn’t be. It had to be him, not the _other_ people.

Because the other people always had an agenda, always looking to play on their weaknesses, always measuring you to take what they could with so little consideration. Rick would never trust nor risk the safety and well-being of his family on the accounts of good intentions or conscience of other people. _Never_.

Aaron cleared his throat. “I admit we don’t usually bring in such big groups, yes,” the man confessed. “But you see—we…our town—” he corrected, his eyes turning to Rick in an open stare. “Well, our town needs a sheriff,” he declared.

His jaw squared worse. Rick _knew_ it.

An agenda. They all had an agenda now.

# # #

It must be a joke. So much that Amanda almost turned and started looking for hidden cameras.

Everything—everything felt like a joke. The man, his words, wanting a sheriff, but the town itself the most. The pictures. Amanda saw the pictures, the luxury lifestyle the complex was offering. Everything the man had mentioned was in the pictures, even the Jacuzzi and sauna.

_Jacuzzi and sauna._

She couldn’t even imagine herself living in such a complex even before the turn, but now… God, it must be a joke, a delusion… a collective delusion they all were sharing. That would’ve been much more sensible.

“That’s why you were looking for _me_?” Rick asked, and Amanda could see his jaw set even harder after the words under the brush of his beard.

God, why did things just always have to turn out like this? Why couldn’t they just catch a breath? She’d been trying so hard, so hard holding on the edge, not to roll down and shatter. Then Rick said _that_ , _we’re the walking dead,_ the trick to cheat the game… then told her they did what they had to, then they got to live, together…

Together…

The way he’d said the word had knocked the breath out of her once again, the intensity, the way electric blue eyes flashed…

_Together._

Amanda just wanted—what did she really want? She’d thought she wanted more, and a part of her still did, despite herself, despite what had happened, despite Maggie, despite the wilderness, despite the foul thing that had been circling above them in the air like they were already dead things, Amanda still wanted it, craved for it…didn’t want to rinse and repeat…she wanted to… _live_. Together. She _wanted_ it. She just didn’t know how.

Suddenly in her mind, Gorman’s words echoed, from a lifetime ago, _you’ll regret this._

_No, I won’t._

No. Amanda didn’t. She didn’t regret her decision. Never.

Despite everything, she was still glad to be here.

Together with them. Her people?

As soon as the question appeared in her mind, the answer came easily again. Even though she didn’t know anything else, she knew at least that much. They were her people. The rest, they were going to find out. Rick—he’d been right on that part all along, since the first time they’d admitted their feelings. They were going to find out. They _all_ were. Beth, Carl, Glenn. They were going to come back. They were on the edge, but they weren’t too far gone yet.

The part Amanda wasn’t sure of if it was going to happen in that place.

Alexandria’s Dream.

Was it just another dream that sounded too good to be true, or just another nightmare waiting to happen?

Amanda let her eyes wander around the room and check on her people as the recruiter man affirmed Rick’s question with a nod. They all seemed intrigued. They were wary, much like her, disbelief clouding their eyes, but still, the intrigue was there.

Swimming pools, Jacuzzis, and saunas. They were hooked. Amanda remembered the baits in the trap. Nothing in this world ever came without a price. The only free cheese was in the mouse trap, she reminded herself.

She wondered what the catch was. Because she knew there was. Even good people didn’t start doing things like these without a reason. But then again, there was another fact she knew damn well: beggars still couldn’t be choosers.

“Our leader, Deanna, manages things,” the recruiter, Aaron, started again. “Tries to keep it under control. But—but she said she needs someone to help her to keep the order. More precisely, she said, and I quote—” the recruiter gave them a small, faint smile. “Our town needs a sheriff. She sent me out to find one.”

Amanda almost started laughing. “And you found us?” she asked.

Aaron nodded. “I noticed you on the road first, then followed. The way you take care of each other, survive… never giving up. I realized you’re good people, good and capable. But your group is really big, so I couldn’t decide,” he admitted. “But then I heard the conversation, someone mentioned Deputy…” He trailed off, his eyes turning toward Rick again.

“So you came—” she finished.

Aaron nodded. “So I did.”

“How many times have you done this?” Carol questioned, coming to their side, too. Beside Beth and Mika, Sasha started walking as well with Bob. Beth followed them, holding Judith in her arms, as Joan and Rosita came over last. Noah, the priest, and others stayed with Mika.

“Abraham needs to hear this,” Rosita supplied, walking to her side, but the words were directed at Rick. In silence, Rick nodded. The plan. They needed to talk about this. The Pentagon had become their endgame, but they still needed a place. They’d _already_ discussed it. But Amanda knew it wasn’t what Rick had planned.

“Usually I bring sole survivors,” Aaron answered. “Or groups of two. Once I brought a group of four. But in this number,” he said, running his eyes over them, and admitted again. “Never.”

Amanda sighed lightly. 

“If we choose to come with you, would they take us in? All of us?” Sasha asked to clarify.

In all honesty, the recruiter sounded like he was mostly _interested_ in Rick. But Amanda wasn’t afraid of that. She was a cop, and if they needed a sheriff, they most certainly needed a cop, too. Bob was a medic. Joan was a nurse. Daryl was a hunter and tracker. Sasha was a good lookout with a killer aim. Glenn was a good supplier runner. They were all _very_ capable people, not to mention Abraham and his own people, and _they_ came in a package. Together.

“There's gonna be auditions,” Aaron answered as Amanda snapped her attention back at the man. “In our town we have a psychologist. She and Deanna interview each candidate. Then they put you on probation, a month usually. Then Deanne makes the final decision.”

It all sounded like a job application. Amanda didn’t know how she should feel about that, but she remembered Grady. "If we stay, we're free to leave at any time we choose?" she asked.

"During the probation time, leaving is restricted,” Aaron answered. “But after you become a citizen, you’re free to do as you may.”

Rick glared at the words. A citizen. Was something like that left?

“But there won't be any debts on us, nothing to pay you back?" Joan questioned further and Amanda felt the younger woman’s words like a knife in her chest. "You won't force us to do…anything?"

Aaron shook his head. "We all have jobs. Deanne usually appoints them, but it’s a joint decision between you and her. She wouldn’t force anyone to anything they would feel uncomfortable with or anything they don't want to do," he clarified.

Amanda read “would” in the words, so as Joan. They shared a brief glance with each other, and Amanda felt it, the tingling. It was subtle, barely there, underneath her skin, not just like her sixth sense set off the alarm like it usually did, but it was definitely there. She _felt_ it.

She wondered if it was because of their ordeals, of what they had seen, what they had survived, or they had just stayed out in the woods too long, staring into the abyss. And the abyss stared at them back too… 

“Deanna—Deanna is a visionary,” the man said then. “She wants to create our civilization back, build the law and order again.”

The words only made Amanda more anxious. “She told me we need a sheriff because we can’t be the judge, jury, and executioner at the same time,” Aaron continued. “She says this isn’t what Alexandria is.”

They were all silent after that, each to their own thoughts. Amanda darted another look at Rick. His jaw was so squared, she wondered for a second if he would break his teeth. It was going to take a while to convince him to accept this.

Amanda momentarily froze, catching up to her last thought. So, did she…did she really want this? Already made up her mind? Ready to walk into perhaps another trap?

Sometimes, it still made her shudder in the dark to think what would’ve happened in Terminus if Carol didn’t find them first, didn’t warn them. The thought brought her own old feelings back, remembering Lizzie… Perhaps, perhaps Rick had been right on that as well, perhaps they really had to tell her what had happened to Lizzie.

Perhaps they really owed her that. Another thing Amanda didn’t know.

But as if Carol was having the same qualms about this place, too, her stark blue eyes found Rick’s. “We need to talk about this,” the older woman announced, and Rick jerked his head briefly.

They moved to the corner beside the stables, Glenn and Carl still at watch at the front. Bob stayed on guard beside the recruiter as they formed a circle.

“I—I want to go and check it out,” Sasha remarked, saying her own piece immediately.

Rick shook his head. “I say we stick to the plan,” he said, and it was of course no surprise. “I don’t like the smell of this.”

It was Rosita who surprised her. The Latina woman shook her head in objection. “The plan is to bring Eugene to D.C,” she spoke, “If this Deanna is anything like this guy says she would help us. She’d give us guns, supplies,” she said heatedly. “We may even find recruits. That _was_ always our plan. We decided to go to Terminus for that.”

“And it turned to a disaster,” Rick reminded her. “We don’t need another Terminus.”

Amanda darted a look at the man again as he demurely sat on the ground, and tried to read her feelings, her… _tingling_. She gave herself a few seconds before she finally said, “I don’t think he’s like Terminus.”

No. She was wary, yes, and there was that definite tingle in her, alert, but it wasn’t like how she had felt with those men in the woods. Amanda knew the good from the bad, she had always. She just didn’t feel like that in the man’s presence.

She roamed her eyes over her people. Lost in the woods. Wary, but intrigued. Her eyes found Beth, even in her edgy indifference, there was an intrigue, something Amanda hadn’t seen in her eyes in weeks. All things considered, perhaps that was what made her decision in the end.

Amanda could do anything, _anything_ to see that gleam back in Beth’s eyes on a daily basis. They _needed_ a place, a real place. A real life. _This isn’t a living._ She owed Maggie at least that much.

The rest was still a problem for tomorrow. And they would deal with it, like they always did. For better or worse.

But this—this wasn’t how they did it. No. She turned to Rick. “This isn’t how we do _this_ —” she remarked. “Go ask him the questions.” Rick stared at her. “He’s with _us_ ,” she continued. “If we take him, _we_ take him. Not the other way around.”

He was silent for a second first, then slowly, as if understanding her point, nodded. Something grew heavier in his eyes as he looked at her, the intensity turning them again to sharp cut gemstones. “Go on then,” he told her. “Ask him.”

Her breath tightening in her chest, Amanda realized what he was asking from her. A part of her suddenly felt the dread, and almost told him to do it himself. Amanda—she…she couldn’t do it. It didn’t feel right, it didn’t fit in… She couldn’t ask the questions. It was their thing. But she—she was one of them.

Them.

It—it was just a fact, too. Just as clear as even though she slipped away at dawn each morning, she still returned to Rick for him to take her in his arms each night. So, Amanda just nodded, and started walking.

They all followed her. She stopped in front of the man as Bob took a sidestep. “How many walkers have you killed?” To her utmost surprise, her voice didn’t waver despite her galloping heart.

Aaron looked at her confused as Rick stopped at her side. “What?”

“Answer the question,” Rick ordered as Amanda tried to steady herself. Slowing down her pulse, she let out a short breath before she repeated, “How many?” She would’ve thought it’d be the exact opposite, but somehow doing it together with Rick calmed her down.

Together.

_We do what we have to do, then we get to live. Together._

The man’s gaze returned to her. “A lot…I don’t know.” He paused. “Why do you ask?”

She stared down at the man and asked for the first time ever. “How many people have you killed?”

This was what they did, once upon a time, she’d answered the same question as well. The recruiter was looking back at her, as if he wanted to see something, too, his gaze mixed with confusion and wariness. Amanda didn’t turn her eyes away, held it back.

“Two,” Aaron confessed after a long while.

“Why?” Amanda asked for the last.

The confusion left, with understanding dawning in the man’s eyes. “Because they tried to kill me,” he said.

Her eyes still on the man, Amanda tried to see what lay behind the words, behind the eyes, wondering what Rick had seen in _her_ when Amanda had answered that question, too.

Amanda realized then she’d never asked, as well.

“They didn’t understand what kind of a place Alexandria is,” Aaron continued in the brief silence. “Deanna wanted them gone. Me and my partner escorted them out of the walls, told them to leave peacefully, but they didn’t.” He paused. “We didn’t have any other choice.”

Aaron’s eyes were clear, smart…honest. She couldn’t see any lie. The man was telling the truth, and Amanda saw it in his eyes. Perhaps Rick had just seen it in her, too.

She nodded, but then asked because she had to know that, because it still mattered. “And how many people have you saved?” Rick snapped his head at her, hearing the question, and gave her a look. Amanda looked ahead at them.

Aaron’s answer didn’t hesitate, much like hers. “Six,” he replied. “They were around the town. Found them lost in the woods.”

“A good man found me like that too,” Amanda said, still feeling Rick’s gaze and the others on her. “Brought me to his home. Are you a good man too, Aaron?”

“I still try to be—” the man said in return, and Amanda knew again it was the truth.

It was what they all still could only do, try. Struggle, strive and endure, as best they could. Bear this world. That was _how_ they were going to survive. They were not the walking dead.

She nodded. Rick scowled. She made a quick half jerk of her head toward him. He followed her toward the other corner. She wanted to talk to him alone for a minute. He—he had to see.

They weren’t the living dead. They weren’t that far gone yet, but they’d been on the edge too long. Too fucking long. It was time to come back. Rick stopped in front of him. “We have to see it,” she said quickly. “We have to, Rick.”

“I don’t like it—” he repeated. “Smells like a trap.”

“I know—” Amanda cut him in before he could go on. “I know,” she repeated, “But—but we’re hanging by a thread, Rick.” She paused, recalling her first conversation with Beth in the prison, as well. “We have to come back now.”

He took a step further toward her, his eyes getting heated again. “We will!” he protested, fire in his voice, “I just told you, Amanda.” He gestured toward the front door where they’d been talking before Daryl had brought the recruiter. “I made you a promise,” he stated. “And I intend to keep it.”

Amanda remembered the words. “Rick—” she said, shaking her head. “I appreciate the thought, but I _really_ don’t want to go kill all the bastards from here up to D.C until we find a place to settle in.” She let out a deep breath. “Why don’t we just go and see it?” she asked, raising her hands in the air. “Maybe they’re _really_ just good people who want to share what they have.”

Rick gave her such a look that told her clearly what he thought of her last statement.

“What Aaron said about his leader makes sense. In the long run, sustainability came more from people than resources. You managed in the prison with so little resources to do we couldn’t at Grady.”

She thought that would make him think differently, but Rick’s scowl only hardened. “Prison is in ruins, Amanda,” he replied. “But Grady is still on its feet.”

“You know what I mean!” she snapped with frustration. She didn’t want to think like that, she didn’t. Rick was still looking at her. “The others…” she continued. “They want to see it. I _saw_ it in their eyes. Beth—her eyes were intrigued.” She shook her head. “I won’t pluck it away from her.”

It was hope. Amanda saw it clearly in the depths of those wide blue eyes, gleaming, once again doelike. Amanda saw hope in them. She was not going to take it away from the girl. “They need this, Rick,” she said, taking a step closer too, knowing that _this_ would make him reconsider. The only thing would make Rick reconsider taking such a risk now, the very thing Amanda had told Abraham Ford.

“The kids,” she remarked. “Carl, Judith, Beth, Mika. They all need this, Rick. They stayed out too long.” She paused. “We have to get them _in_.”

He shook his head, heaving deeply, and for a second, Amanda remembered the tired man in the prison, his sadness after he’d killed the little pigs. “If this is what y’all, okay,” he finally said. “But I still say we find a place ourselves. This—this is too big.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Rick,” she said simply, before she turned and walked back toward the recruiter and others.

That was another truth as well. She remembered the message written in blood over the destroyed neighborhood. The wolves were still not far away. If Alexandria was good, it was good. If it was not—Amanda stopped her thought. She didn’t want to think on that, at least not now. It was a problem for later, too. They could make a recon and scout the area before they came in, but—

“DAD!” Coming from the front, Carl’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She twisted toward the barn’s front as Rick ran towards the entrance.

“What happened?” he shouted at his son, bypassing her. Amanda followed him hurriedly.

It was Glenn who answered the inquiry. “Daryl and Abraham!” His voice was still rough with misuse, low in his throat, but holding another timber in it, much like the spirit in Beth’s eyes.

Amanda knew they were making the right choice. They needed this. _Her_ people needed this. “They’re coming back—running.”

The doors opened a few seconds after then, and Abraham and Daryl fled inside. Amanda had already unfastened her holster. She still didn’t have many rounds, but what little she had was going to have to make it. She expected the men to announce they had company, too, but Daryl just closed the door and ran the cabinet they’d found the dog food last night in.

“A herd is outside,” the hunter ground out, as he started dragging the cabinet toward the door. “They’re comin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, Amanda finally asked the questions as well! That was always my endgame for her, as we're almost at the end. She gotta do it before they come to Alexandria, her own rite of passage.
> 
> So, Alexandria. I expanded the town more, giving them a lot of stuff, like fitness centers, swimming pools, and Jacuzzis because I thought that would make the difference between the life in the town and the life they suffered in the wild clash even more!
> 
> Hopefully it won't take me another three weeks to put up the finale! Fingers crossed.  
> Cheers.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo! Welcome to the end of the story, hehe :)  
> Without further ado, here the last chapter! Enjoy!

**L.**

The newcomers’ words hushed everything in the smelly barn into a stark, telling silence as the recruiter of Alexandria’s Dream felt the cold dread grip him. His heart started galloping in his chest as fear made him have cold sweats while he sat on the ground against the wooden beam, his hands tied behind him still.

The sudden silence was only broken by the scratching of the wood the cabinet made as they dragged it over the dung and hay covered floor. The Deputy, Rick Grimes, was already with the newcomers. Leaving the female officer, the agitated, provoked man had run to the newcomers as soon as the words were uttered, already helping them to place the cabinet in front of the wooden door to secure the entrance.

Soon the tell-tale snarls and growls started echoing inside the barn, too. The dead had arrived. With another shiver of dread, Aaron wondered about Eric. Their camp in the abandoned warehouse wasn’t very close to this place, a few miles away. They hadn’t wanted to stay close, but if the herd—

The recruiter tried to quell down the worry he felt. But as the snarls and growls came, the interior of their little safe haven suddenly became staged as a battleground. It—it happened so quickly, so meticulously, that despite the dread, worry, and fear, Aaron watched them in awe as they set their perimeters.

Aaron was no foreigner to dangerous situations that escalated quickly. In his time in the Nigerian Delta, he’d lived through a few of them, perhaps not as dangerous as these experiences, but quite frightening all the same. From the group, the recruiter observed the same level of practicality and levelheadedness Aaron used to see in the private military who usually were detailed as their protection.

“Daryl, how many?” the Deputy asked the new arrivals as the same time he motioned at the lookouts in front of the windows who had warned them. “Carl—Glenn, bring the saddles. I saw ‘em in the stables.” The teenager and the Asian man both hurried towards the left side where Aaron thought the stables might be at the same time the Deputy returned to the new arrivals.

“More than four dozen, at least—” the man who must be Daryl answered. Aaron saw angel wings at the back of the man’s vest, white on the dark leather. “More might be addin’ up—” the roughish man continued. “They came from the north side—”

The north. That was where the warehouse was before Aaron had left. Eric—his partner, his husband, the man he loved—even thinking of him alone with the dead made his heart skip another beat, his throat tightening. He—he should’ve never accepted this. Never accepted to take Eric. Aaron was equipped for this, or he at least thought himself equipped for it, despite the current evidence of his bound hands, but Eric… No, Eric had only come because he didn’t want Aaron to leave alone. But there was no one else. The suppliers were out on a long run, and Aiden’s team—well, if Aiden’s team were here now, Aaron was sure they already would’ve been in deep shit. No. It had to be him. Eric just hadn’t wanted him to go alone… Deanna was right about that. Their town needed a sheriff…

His eyes moved and caught the Deputy. As if he sensed his gaze on him, the man slanted a look at him. Aaron prayed for all the higher beings he could think of, he hadn’t made a mistake. There—there was something in the man’s eyes that reminded him of Dave—a glint of a sharp edge, as if his electric blue eyes were reflecting light, even though there was no light whatsoever to reflect.

Aaron had taken the leap, made the call, and now he was seriously hoping it wasn’t a mistake.

The entrance hall, though, as far as he could see from his vantage point, was getting crowded with the rest of their people drawn to the clamor. The female officer was now circled around with others that looked at her for answers.

“Amanda—what’s happening?” A girl in her late teens with shoulder length blonde hair asked. “Walkers?”

The officer nodded. “Yes. Move back—” she ordered, but the teenager stayed where she was, ignoring the cool order. The officer and the deputy shared a brief glance, and Aaron wondered what kind of relationship they really had.

They’d retreated to have a special talk a few minutes ago away from the others, Aaron had caught. They’d been talking fiercely, he had also observed, having a discussion. Although their body language was agitated, it also revealed a personal closeness as they didn’t look like they minded getting into each other’s personal space. In his training for being a dealer for NGO operations, Aaron had studied body language closely. The signs told him a close relationship, even though Aaron couldn’t be sure of its nature. Just two law enforcement agents that were bonded to keep their people safe and secure or more—on a personal level, Aaron couldn’t tell exactly. He wished he could. Deanna would like to know that.

Their leader was always quite determined to know whatever info he could gather for his…candidates before Deanna started interviewing them with Denise. Deanna’s mind worked like this. Knowledge was her most important tool and weapon, even though sometimes Aaron got…worried that it also made her…biased in her opinions.

In any case, Deanna would also like to have another officer and a sergeant to run at her beck and call. Aiden was too unruly. Heath sometimes was too…inexperienced. They needed these people. He wasn’t sure of everyone’s dispositions, but Aaron knew at least that much. As he spied on them in a time of crisis, his judgment on the issue became even more certain.

“Everyone—move back!” The deputy waved his arm, his voice rising as he turned aside toward the company they’d started to get. “Amanda—move them back!” he shouted at the female officer from the door, even Aaron heard from the hall where he was settled. “Draw a two-level defense line—” he ordered. “If the door falls, we’ll keep them at bay. You protect the kids.”

The female officer didn’t say anything, but Aaron still read hesitation in her body language. He knew the reason. When he came to, he’d surveyed the barn. There was no back exit. If the door was broken down, they were going to be stuck there with no means of escape. It was probably why the deputy wanted a two-level defense line, as well.

One time in a different life, two squads of Blackwater soldiers had protected them against the militias using the same strategy. 

Two-level defense line, Aaron decided as he surveyed the situation, might be the best course of defense. If the doors breached, the first line would kill as many as they could, leaving those who slipped by to the second line to deal with.

The officer and the deputy shared a quick glance before she spun on her heel and snapped her fingers at the lookouts. “Glenn—Carl—” She waved at the teenage boy and the Asian man. ““You’re with me. Carol—you, too—”

Carol was a woman in her late forties with salt-and-pepper hair. She looked kind and petite, but there was a stoic expression settled over the woman’s features. “Rosita, get here, too,” she shouted at a Latina woman with some interestingly bad fashion choices, getting closer toward him in the hall. “We form a defense line—” the officer explained as they circled her beside Aaron.

Across them, the deputy and others were still trying to pile up whatever stuff they could find against the door and cabinet; broken equipment, furniture, tools, buckets…everything, everything went up on the cabinet. The snarls and growls were coming a lot louder now, and Aaron dreaded once again it wasn’t going to be enough to hold.

A second later, Aaron wondered if anyone was going to free him.

He suspected the deputy wouldn’t do it. But—the officer, Aaron didn’t know. The way the woman had asked him those questions _… Are you a good man, Aaron?_

Aaron hadn’t lied. He—he was trying to be. Still.

As if she somehow read his mind, standing a few feet from him, the woman’s green eyes found him, and they exchanged a glance. Hers stayed on his for a split second before she raised them and found the Deputy’s across the way. Aaron watched them as they shared another silent communication.

Aaron had a wild guess what they’d be talking about right now. _Him._

 _Sh_ _ould we free him?_ she asked.

The Deputy even made a little head shake. _Nah…I still don’t trust him._

Her jaw squared a bit, but she didn’t argue, turned on her heel again, and started marching toward the back.

Her little group followed her example, trotting after her. Before they reached him, Aaron felt another gaze on him. He turned and saw the Asian lookout give him a loaded look, more openly. Then the man took out his knife and walked to him.

Aaron drew in a sharp breath.

“Glenn!” The Deputy called out to him, catching the man.

The man, Glenn, leaned over his shoulder, Aaron followed his movements with his eyes, towards his bound hands… The blade cut his bonds. “He can’t stay like this—” His voice was a rasp, as if he could barely force it out of his throat, and for a second, Aaron wondered if the Deputy heard it.

“He’s not one of us—” The Deputy called out. Aaron sensed the…strain and anger in it, but he didn’t stop his…liberator.

“He answered the questions—” Glenn replied, before leaving Aaron to join to the defense line.

Aaron got to his feet, rubbing circulation back into his wrists, and walked toward the entrance. The deputy and the last arrivals eyed him, the Deputy’s gaze heavy and loaded as loud banging on the door started accompanying the snarls and growls outside.

The dead had arrived.

“I want to fight—” Aaron said as simply as possible. If everything were going to go according to plan, these people were going to be his people. He—he must help them.

The Deputy gave him another long look, clearly assessing, searching, measuring, and Aaron still knew he didn’t trust him, but at the end, he nodded. “Daryl—” he called the man with angel wings. “His knife. You got it?” he asked.

The man who had found him in the woods responded with, “Yeah—”

“Give it back to him.”

The hunter, Aaron had surmised, took out his ivory hilted blade. “Ya done it before?” the man asked, giving it back to him.

Aaron shook his head and told them the truth. “No. We usually run when they hit a dozen.”

The big, redhead sergeant put a heavy hand on his shoulder, growling out a bitter laugh. “That’s when we usually start grabbing them at the balls—” He roughed out with another laugh, pulling him to his side. “Welcome to our world, buddy.”

Aaron let him as inside he prayed once more that he hadn’t made a mistake by misjudging these people.

# # #

As his family retreated towards the back, Rick's gaze followed them closely.

Carol was standing at the farthest corner, and four or so feet ahead of her, Amanda had drawn the second defense line. The distance was enough to deal with anything that slipped by, so Rick nodded to himself as Amanda motioned for Beth to give Judith to Carol.

Amanda could only trust Carol’s cool demeanor and tactical mind to protect the kids when she would lead the line. Carol was standing in the corner, Judith tugged to her chest as his baby cried, hiding herself as Carol held Mika’s hand with her other hand. The little girl’s face was pale and horror stricken once again. Beside them Eugene was there too as Ford had sent the scientist behind the line for the best protection.

Glenn was holding the left wing and Rosita was on the right with Sasha and Bob as Amanda took the middle and apex of the arc. Beth was at her left, next to Bob, and Carl at her right, and Rick felt glad. Other than beside him, there was no place else Rick would want his son to be than at Amanda’s side right now.

The others - the boys, the priest - were all just behind them. The boys with Noah wanted to get in their defense lines, but Amanda refused, putting them just behind them, not risking her formation with anyone who had never done this kind of fighting before. Carl and Beth, Rick realized then—they were no longer just pupils, but her apprentices.

With the snarls and growls the excited dead made from the other side, Judy started crying even louder, but even Amanda didn’t do anything for it, but let her cry as they waited.

If they would outlive tonight, Rick swore quietly never ever let the kids live through such a night like this again.

# # #

By the time the doors were breached, Beth felt her heartbeat rise, but oddly enough, she wasn’t afraid. There was no fear in her anymore, as if she’d forgotten how to feel it.

Her eyes moved, and she looked at Amanda, the family she had, her sister, her blood-sister. “Don’t be afraid—” Amanda told them.

But Beth wasn’t afraid.

Her eyes skipped to Carl as ahead of them, the first line took on the plunge of the dead. She saw Rick and Daryl fighting, as wild as always, protecting them at all cost. For a minute or so, Beth wanted to join them, too. Joan was there, beside Daryl, Beth wanted to be, too. She wasn’t just a rookie anymore. She’d seen the ugly side of it, lived through it. She had her scars now. She didn’t want to stay sidelined, but then by the look of the shape of the things to come, she felt like she didn’t need to.

She didn’t need to go to death, death was coming to her. Death was always coming to them. She brushed her fingers across her palm, feeling her scar. She wondered if she could draw in there her circle.

“Hey—” Beth called out to her friend. “My music box—did you hide it?” she asked, suddenly remembering the broken thing.

Carl gave her a look from Amanda’s other side. “Yeah—”

Beth nodded. “Good.”

Good. That moment Beth realized she didn’t mind that the music box didn’t work anymore. She just liked it as it was, a pretty little broken thing. There was a hidden…beauty in it… if you chose to see it.

# # #

When it was finished, they were all bloody, but alive.

Once again, they were lucky. The numbers didn't increase, stayed as a fairly manageable three or so dozen, and it was also quick enough. Close, but quick enough.

Letting out a deep breath, Amanda wiped her hands over her pants and turned back to see Carol and the kids. The looks on their faces made everything much simpler and basic. They needed Alexandria. The kids—the kids should never ever live through this again. It was time to get them _in_.

Amanda crossed the safe distance between herself and the kids. She first leaned down and pressed a firm kiss against the little girl’s head as Mika pressed herself tightly against Carol’s leg, then raising up, took Judith from the older woman.

She held the baby close to her chest, heaving deep breaths, trying to reach a state of calmness, breathing her baby scent in. Even Judith’s scent had mixed with the woods now…but the sweet ripe scent of innocence was still there underneath. They were okay. They were going to be okay…

Carl was beside her; had come to check his baby sister. Amanda turned her head to look at him. “You okay?” she asked the teenager.

He gave her a brisk nod, reaching to take Judith from her. Amanda let go as Rick walked towards them, too.

“You okay?” he asked them the same way Amanda just did, and they all nodded wordlessly.

Amanda looked at the kids, looked at Carl, Beth, the young men, the priest, all of them, then spun on her heel and started walking toward the recruiter. It was enough, enough of this shit. “Amanda—” she heard Rick calling out behind her, but she had enough of this.

More than enough. More than a lifetime…

She stood in front of the recruiter. “Can we leave now?” she asked directly. “Do you have enough vehicles for all of us?”

“Amanda—!” Rick called out to her, his voice raised a notch as he came nearer. “We still need to talk about this!”

She turned to him and yelled in his face. “Talk about WHAT?” She didn’t care a fuck anymore, or the fact that she’d just started a shouting match in front of an audience. She’d had _enough_. “We don’t even have this godawful smelly horseshit barn anymore!” She started marching him backward in her fury. “WE’RE GOING, RICK!”

Everything was silent after her exclamation, all of their gazes on them. Amanda thought then that perhaps she shouldn’t have done it—but she just couldn’t take it anymore. She really had enough...of everything. They had to get inside walls. Not tomorrow, or the day after, or anything else in the future. Now. Rick stared at her, eyes hard. Not giving an inch, she glared right back. If he wanted to do it like this, they were going to do it.

Everything was really silent now, everyone quiet, perhaps just too shocked at her suddenly losing it, or they just didn’t want to get in between them. Amanda didn’t know, and she didn’t care, either.

In the end, it was the recruiter who broke the silence. “We—we have an RV—” the man remarked slowly. Amanda turned to him at the same time Rick did.

“Could we all fit in it?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, but quickly added. “But we also have a car,” he said. “I came here with my car. We will be a bit crowded, but yeah, we could fit in.”

She nodded firmly. “Then it’s settled.” She turned to look at all of _her people,_ pointedly ignoring Rick.

They all nodded, too. Amanda turned to the Sergeant. “I wanna talk with this Deanna,” Ford stated. “The earlier, the better.”

Amanda gave a half nod, then finally turned to Rick.

She received another look in answer before he shifted his gaze to the recruiter. “Where is this RV?”

“My partner is waiting to the north. A few miles away.” The man paused. “We could trek there, I suppose. We have radios, but the battery ran out.”

Rick’s jaw squared. “Night journeys are dangerous, more on foot.”

“We don’t even have a door, Rick—” she reminded him, keeping her voice calmer this time, gesturing at the broken door where the rotters were piled around. “And this place is a graveyard.”

His eyes moved toward the door, checking it out, and this time without further dragging of his feet, Rick nodded, albeit forcefully. “’kay. Pack up. We leave in half of an hour.”

They started clearing the barn, packing up as quickly as possible. No one really wanted to stay here a second later than necessary. _She_ wasn’t the only one.

Rick found her at a corner close to stables as she checked the barn in a final sweep for not leaving anything behind. “Amanda—” His voice was soft as he checked one of the saddles they had forgotten to bring to the door. “I was _already_ going to see it.”

“I know—” she said, accepting. She knew. He’d already said it, said if they all wanted to do this, they were going to do it before the dead attacked, but Amanda had grown tired of this game, tired of running on his o’clock at his own convenience.

“I told Ford when he was pushing you to go to DC that you do what you do on your own time, and your clock runs on your own convenience,” she told him, openly staring at him. “And worse—” she fumed, a heat creeping into her voice as her tone turned accusing— “You expect all of us to just fall in behind it!” As soon as the words left her mouth, she became aware she wasn’t just talking about tonight or Alexandria, but about…everything.

She wanted to stop and retreat, but she had already started, and there was no going back from it. The way Rick’s jaw clenched told her much the same, too. She shook her head. “I guess I’m just tired of it.”

Rick let out a low snort, throwing the saddle on the wooden floor with a bit more force than necessary. “You—you’re tired of it?” he asked, his voice tinting with disbelief. “Me doing stuff on my own convenience, really?” he asked, shaking his head. “How was that saying, Amanda?” He closed the small distance between them quickly and cornered her inside the stable. “About people living in glass houses and throwing stones?”

As Amanda _really_ realized she’d started something she rather preferred not to do right now, she decided to bail out. “We need to go—” she rattled, bypassing him to leave the stable box, but he caught her elbow.

“No—you _started_ this—”

“Rick—” she hissed. “We need to go. This is not a good time.”

“Then why did you start it?” he exclaimed, as quietly as possible, leaning over her.

“I didn’t start anything!” she said dismissively, trying to pass by him again. She—she just wanted to go now. If she started it, she was finishing it, too! She didn’t run on his damn o’clock.

“Amanda—”

“I need to prepare—” she cut him off. “Move away.”

“Amanda—”

“Rick—”

 _“RICK!”_ His name rang in the open barn echoing as a red light brightened inside the dark interiors. She watched him in the red shadows as they snapped their heads towards the entrance as Daryl shouted again, “Rick! Come over here!”

The scene reminded her faintly how things were in the prison—and before she could stop herself, she started laughing as Rick turned on his heel and started running towards the broken door.

And here they were—returning to the beginning once more—the shouts of his name ringing in the air as he ran madly towards yet another problem—a discussion cut in the middle.

Not that Amanda minded. She heaved out a deep breath and started moving out of the wooden box completely, she wondered what had happened _this_ _time_. Because something always happened, right?

That much didn’t seem to change even with their newfound safe haven, Alexandria’s Dream.

Amanda moved aside a few steps more and saw through the broken door that outside, the night was lit up with a red star.

It took her a second or so before she gathered what happened.

A flare—a flare had been fired.

Fully understanding what was happening, Amanda started running after Rick.

# # #

The recruiter was out of his mind. “It’s my partner!” he shouted as he ran towards the broken door, struggling with the dead corpses that piled up over the threshold. “It’s—it’s Eric! He must be in danger!”

Rick watched the red skyline as the red smoke of the flare slowly dissipated until it faded completely and left the place to darkness once more. The recruiter tried to get over the dead that blocked their entrance. This had worked for their advantage as the fallen corpses had formed a natural barrier like trenches. Aaron struggled over them to cross to the other side before Ford pulled him back. “Easy—man, tell us what happened?”

“It’s our signal!” Aaron said, pulling himself out of his grip. “We only fire the flare when we’re in danger. I—I need to go.”

Rick just wanted to sigh deeply. Tonight was certainly one of those nights. A night that just couldn’t seem to end. In a matter of a few hours, he had a fight with Amanda, a semi talk that was interrupted, this Aaron came with his offer of an oasis, the dead attacked, he had another fight with Amanda, a shouting match nevertheless in front of everyone, then _another_ fight, and their talk was interrupted once more.

He had no idea why that came up, or what she was exactly accusing him of doing when she was giving a name for herself doing stuff at her own damn o’clock! Three weeks—it’d been almost three weeks since that night when they left Shirewilt Estate burning, and she wasn’t even letting him touch her now! She’d been sneaking into his arms every fucking night for three weeks before dawn and slipping away at first light! And Rick—Rick was the one who was doing stuff on his own time?

She must be kidding him. Only Rick was sure she wasn’t. He wondered briefly where they would’ve gone with it if they weren’t interrupted, but he really didn’t want to know. He was tired. He just wanted to take her in his arms and sleep, With his children beside them. He just wanted to end tonight.

Apparently, he would _not_.

The recruiter shook his head again. “I need to go—” he rattled out, agitated. “The dead would already start drawing to the sound and light. I need to go.”

The man turned and looked at them, and suddenly there was a silence between them, everyone thinking the same.

The night trips were always dangerous, and they’d just lived through another close encounter. The walkers might have already been drawn to the clamor. The rule of survival was easy. When things went south, you started running. Away from the clamor, not into it.

Yet, they also didn’t leave people behind, and it was someone from his people he would go—but—Aaron wasn’t one of his people, nor his partner. He was—he was just someone Rick might share the accommodation.

He didn’t take risks. He didn’t do reflex actions anymore. That wasn’t how they survived. Yet, his son was looking at him again with that look, and his question echoed in him—and who are we, dad?

They were—they were a bunch of people who tried not to die in the apocalypse. They killed the dead, didn’t hurt people unless they tried to hurt them or others, but none of that included going to save people. His eyes moved to the priest, the man whose inconsideration and stupidity made someone from his family pay the highest price—and Rick’s eyes moved towards Glenn— _He answered the questions_ , Glenn had said, as he cut the recruiters’ bonds.

The questions…

 _A good man found me like that_ _,_ _too. Brought me to his home. Are you a good man, too, Aaron?_

Was he—was Rick still a good man?

_Rick, you can't just be the good guy and expect to live._

But, Rick was still…living.

Perhaps Amanda was right. It—it shouldn’t be so hard to stay…decent. His eyes moved and spotted her. She was looking at him, as if waiting his decision too…And Rick remembered that night—the way she looked as she told him she was going to burn the butchered town nevertheless, the way her words made him feel—the way they made him utter the words to her without any filter, without a thought.

He loved her, loved her for that spirit, but the only way to keep her like that was also keeping his own hands dirty so hers—his family’s hands would stay clean. Rick was okay with that. He’d made peace with it. That night under the moonlight he’d accepted that it was a necessary evil he needed.

No. He—he wasn’t a good man anymore. Rick knew it. If he had to, he would leave the man and his partner to die without hesitation. This—this was the real world they lived in. There weren’t many places left for the good men in it. No. Rick wasn’t a good man anymore. But sometimes…sometimes he—he still tried to be. _A good man found me like that_ _,_ _too. Brought me to his home._

His jaw clenched, Rick turned to the recruiter. “Do you know his exact location?”

Saying that the recruiter looked surprised would be an understatement. Rick could feel the sentiment. He—this wasn’t only for them, but also for his family. His family—his family was going to live with these people, so he—he had to _try_. “He was in a warehouse when I left him,” he answered after the brief, but shocked, silence. “Will you come with me?”

“We’ll check it,” Rick answered telling him truthfully, “If we can help, we will. If not, I won’t.” He was not going to risk anything for him or his partner. He’d gone to Terminus because his people, because his family, was there and killed them because at that time he _could_. Rick had stopped leaving the sonofabitches alive whenever he could. If he could help his new fellow resident now, he would. But not the other way.

To keep things perfectly clear, Rick started walking to the recruiter. “Let’s get something clear, Aaron,” Rick told him. “I’m not a hero. This is not a _favor_ ,” he went on as openly as possible. “We’re going to live together, share the same place if this works. I _don’t_ want it starting with something like this. But if I deem it not safe, I won’t take the risk,” he concluded with the same hard honesty.

Looking at him, Aaron nodded. “I understand that—”

“Good—"

“—But I appreciate the effort, nevertheless,” the man finished, ignoring his remark.

Rick shook his head with scoff. “You were a conciliator before, right?”

“A damn good one.”

Rick nodded with another scoff. “Let’s go.” Rick moved his head. “Daryl—you comin’?” he asked.

His brother nodded without hesitancy. “If you go—” He turned to the soldier. “Sergeant?”

Abraham Ford shook his head. “Nah. Can’t risk it.”

Rick eyed him coldly. “I don’t know, Ford. Deanna sounds like a woman to be reckoned with it. She wouldn’t appreciate you letting one of her own die without making…an effort.”

Ford gave him the same cold look back. “That’s why you do this, Deputy?” he asked. “To get in her good graces?”

“Just being a good citizen.”

Ford turned to Rosita. “Ros—you stay with Eugene. I’m going with them.”

His Latina girlfriend nodded.

“Where’s your car?” Rick asked.

“On the road close to the barn. A five-minute trip,” he answered, before asking as they started preparing, “Are there any doctors or medics among you?” he asked. “The flare is our emergency signal. If he fired it, he might need medical assistance.”

His eyes turned to Joan, but Daryl shook his head. “Nah. She stays.” She turned to Daryl, too. “You did enough today. Bob—you coming?”

The medic nodded. “Um. ‘Kay.”

Leaving them, Rick walked toward Carl, who was still holding Judy. He leaned forward and kissed his baby girl’s hair. Beside them, Amanda stood still in silence as she just looked at him. Rick turned to Glenn. “Glenn—you coming, too?”

The younger man nodded without a word and started walking toward the broken door. Rick turned to Amanda then. “You stay with kids—" he told her. “It won’t take long—"

“Rick—” she interrupted him, stepping closer to him. “You—you don’t have to do this.” She moved them away towards the stables for some privacy. “What I said—"

“It’s not about that—” Rick cut her off, too. It wasn’t. It was another discussion they had to have. But not today. “I meant what I said, Amanda,” he repeated. “I’m going to find us a home. If you believe that town would be that place, then so be it.” He paused and took a step further in her. “I’m still trying, Amanda.”

Hearing the words, her eyes tilted up at his, and she gave him a long look before she smiled faintly. “I know.” Her hand raised and briefly touched at his cheek. “You—you—" She shook her head. “Just don’t do something stupid.”

He smiled back in the same way, moving his head to kiss her fingertips. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.” She breathed out as his lips lingered on her fingertips.

He looked at her. “When we get there, we talk, ‘kay?” he asked her again in a whisper.

Lowering her hand, Amanda gave a shrug, which meant—honestly, Rick wasn’t sure.

“Rick!” Daryl shouted again from the entrance. “We’re ready.”

Later, he told himself, much like he’d been repeating since they’d lost the prison. They were going to deal with it later. He leaned and gave her left temple a quick kiss. “Stay alert, stay safe—" he muttered before he turned and walked away.

# # #

After they left, the barn turned quiet and cold. They were huddled together closely against the windy, chilly air, sitting on the wooden floor covered with horse dung, filth, and hay. In her mind, swimming pools and Jacuzzis rafted briefly as Amanda wondered if this really would be their last night in literal shit like this. She couldn’t find a clear answer for her unspoken inquiry, so she ignored it.

Already fully packed up, there was nothing else to do other than sit and wait, left behind. Amanda hated it, she had always hated sitting idly, thoughts shifting in the mind…worrying. She would’ve liked to go with Rick and the others, but she just—couldn’t take another fight with him at the moment. She was tired, too tired. Her eyes skipped to Carl and Beth where they sat a few feet away from her, Judith crawling over Carl’s hip as Beth looked at her music box. She’d opened the inside of it, checking out the gears. The thing was still broken, Amanda already knew. Rick had worked on it before, but it hadn’t worked. She thought for a second to go and look at it, too, just to do something, but she stayed where she was.

Looking at Judith, she almost went and to take her, at least play with the baby girl, but something stopped her, too. Her eyes moved towards Carol, with Mika laying over the older woman’s lap. She felt that—alienation, the same helplessness again as her fingers clutched each other unconsciously, calloused skin, tough with years of handling guns and equipment…

 _How was that saying, Amanda, people living in glass houses and throwing stones?_ Rick words slowly echoed in her mind, as Amanda shook her head agitated.

Perhaps they—they just should’ve left. She just wanted it ended now. Go to that town, and whatever happened, would happen. She was so tired of it…

_I’m still trying._

Weren’t they all? Still trying?

Her eyes darted again toward Beth and Carl, then to Carol and Mika. There was that tug in her chest, that ache—so, so stark—for that she wasn’t even sure anymore… The chilly night wind whistled inside the barn, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Amanda stood up and started walking to the entrance.

Rosita was beside the window, stationed as the lookout with Sasha. Amanda ignored them. Joan was pacing with Noah at the other side of the barn, checking out everything for the last time, and Amanda ignored them, too.

She just wanted to stay alone for a bit, sort of her thoughts, calm down her feelings. Rick still wanted to have a talk. They’d promised to each other in the funeral home, they had. But Amanda was getting an inkling it _still_ wasn’t going to be easy.

Everything—everything—

_I’m still trying…_

She moved toward the farthest corner to find some solitude, but before she could, she heard the footsteps, light and faint. She slanted a look over her shoulder and saw Carol following her.

Amanda stopped in front of the corner and waited. Carol joined her a few seconds later. “This was a stupid idea—” the older woman said, “We should’ve just left.”

“Maybe—” Amanda replied with a shrug. “But Rick's got a point,” she went on, repeating his words. “If we’re going to live with them, we need to show…the effort.”

Carol gave her a small smile. It was a kind one, a gentle one, but knowing the woman, it only made Amanda alert. “We play the Good Samaritan again, huh?” At the words, Amanda scowled, trying to keep her temper in check. Carol shook her head again. “You’re still mad at me, are you? For what I did in the prison?”

Her eyes snapped up to the woman. “Sometimes I—I can’t even believe myself that I could do…that,” Carol said with a small voice then, turning her head away from her. Amanda wondered where this conversation was going, so she didn’t say anything in return. Carol returned her attention to her. “This—this could be a trap, you know.”

Amanda gave another shrug. “Might be,” she still admitted. “There’s only one way to find out.” She paused for a second and gestured with her head and told her what she kept telling Rick. “Besides, beggars can’t be choosers.”

Carol’s clear blue eyes found her and nailed a look at her. “That was what I used to tell myself always,” she replied and took a step closer to her. “You either ever going to tell me what happened to Lizzie?”

The question was so direct, so straightforward, Amanda didn’t see any point with playing dumb with the other woman. She let out a deep sigh. “Do you really want to know?”

Carol shook her head. “At first, I thought I didn’t,” the older woman admitted. “But the way you always look at me and Mika together—” The clear blue eyes found hers again. “Sometimes, like Rick, you wear your heart on your sleeve, Officer Shepherd.” Amanda couldn’t decide it was a compliment or not, so she decided to ignore the words. “What happened, Amanda?” she asked directly this time.

Amanda heaved out a breath again deeply and gave her the answer she’d always given to that question. “Rick and I happened.” Carol frowned. Amanda swallowed and started retelling. There was no going back from this, and a part of her felt…relieved, too, as much as she didn’t want her to know, as much as she wanted to keep Lizzie’s memory as beautiful as it should be, as she talked, Amanda felt…a weight on her, that tightness in her chest leaving her with the words, also.

Her guilt—

“Rick wanted to tell you before Terminus—” she concluded at last. “He said it was his choice, and he was ready to live with its consequences, but I didn’t let him.”

“Why?”

“I—I didn’t want to taint your memories, Lizzie’s memories, wanted them to stay that way… I know you loved her as a daughter,” she answered then gulping, she continued. “And—and I didn’t want to confess, I think. Didn’t—want to talk about it.”

Carol gave her a tight nod. “I—understand.”

“Are—are you mad at him?” Amanda asked in a small voice.

“Are you mad at him?”

Amanda gave out a bitter scoff. “Mad? I was so mad at first—” she said. “So angry, but I still didn’t want to leave him,” she confessed. “I think—I think a part of me will always stay angry—will never forgive, but—but I—I understand, too.”

“Like you will always stay mad at me because I killed two people in cold blood?” Carol asked, almost matter-of-factly. “I also saw your other looks, Amanda.”

This time her eyes nailed Carol a look. “It didn’t stop the disease,” she hissed. “It was pointless, Carol. We still got sick.”

Carol, on the other hand, gave her a bitter smile. “Do you think I didn’t think of that?” she asked. “You think I hoped everything would magically turn out okay…” She shook her head. “I just could close my eyes and pretend everything would be okay, but I didn’t. I knew it might not work, but I still did it. I didn’t want to take the risk.” She paused for a second before she continued, letting a deep breath. “I was so angry at Rick at first after he banished me, too. So…desperate and so angry. When I found Terminus for a while, I even thought I could stay…just close my eyes and pretend… But then I remembered the prison, what I did… Rick told me he was wrong to send me away, but what he did…it saved a part of me, too.” She paused again. “Lizzie—I knew something wasn’t right with her,” she made her own confession too. “A part of me already knew. I spent weeks with them, heard—saw… I knew something wasn’t right, but didn’t want to admit it.”

“It wasn’t right—” Amanda opposed, shaking her head even though she wasn’t sure what she was rejecting now. Carol’s murders, Lizzie, Rick or _herself_ … She just didn’t know anything anymore…

“No—” Carol said. “But—but you see, Rick—he’s right even when he’s wrong.”

With that, the older woman turned and walked away.

# # #

Her head rose from the gears inside the music box, and Beth watched as Amanda paced agitatedly in front of the broken wooden door, her eyes checking outside, alert and wary like a wild animal, like a caged wild animal. Her hands went over her shoulders a few times, clutching the end of her hair, but for a split second, her fingers still inside through her locks, she stopped, staring outside.

Beth could see her backbone turn rigid as her fingers tightened. Then with a sudden move, she stopped, yanked off a hair tie from her wrist and started pulling her hair up. Beth moved her hands over her own shoulders, too, where the end of her hair brushed over her skin— Pulling off her own tie, Beth started gathering her hair up, also, but suddenly Amanda’s hand paused, hesitated—as if she…hesitated—and she waited for as second or so, her back still on them, looking outside, then she started, but not a full ponytail.

This time, Amanda took the front of her hair between her fingers and made it into a half-up high ponytail.

Silently, Beth laughed and pulled her hair up into a full ponytail. Carl slid a look at her. Judith was with Carol and Mika now, and Carl was counting his bullets. Amanda turned on her heel and stalked back at them. She sat in front of them, her long neck bare, smeared with dirt and red, fringes of her hair flickering over her shoulder blades.

None of them made a sound.

Less than half of an hour later, they heard the low, deep rumble of an engine.

# # #

Before the moon rose fully in the sky, they arrived at the town. All alive and counted for. Amanda tried to think of it as a good sign still.

The makeshift bed tucked in the corner of the RV was occupied by Aaron’s partner. The man’s leg had a wound, and he’d been limping on his good one, his arm draped over the recruiter's. Most of them were fitted in the RV as Abraham took the car with his own people, Riccardo and John, and the priest. Rick was driving, and she took the seat beside. When he saw her new…hair style, he didn’t say anything, only gave her a look, then gestured for them to get ready. Amanda didn’t know what she’d been expecting—so she let it go, too.

They were going.

_We need to get them in._

They had to—they’d stayed too long on the edge, it was time to come back now, she repeated herself all way along.

Aaron was with them in the caravan. The recruiter hadn’t wanted to leave his partner’s side, and something was telling Amanda it wasn’t only because of the partnership. Her gaze moved toward the back as she shifted her head aside, and she saw them sharing a quick kiss. She turned back to face the front in the passenger seat, her eyes darting a side look at Rick. He was keenly focused on the dark road, his eyes intently searching for any trouble.

Subduing a sigh, Amanda started doing the same—turned to look outside—

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the movement before he grasped her hand on her knee. She snapped her head to look at him as Rick still stared at the road—his body slightly arched toward hers in the seat to hold her hand. As he drove, he squeezed her hand.

In answer, Amanda linked her fingers through his.

“Before we go in, I still want to check around—” he stated a few seconds later, their hands still tangled. Amanda nodded. “And there’s something else we need to.”

Scowling, she twisted aside. “What?”

“I’ll show you.”

# # #

“Guns—" Amanda remarked in a whisper as Rick brought her towards the woods that flirted with Alexandria’s Dream confines. From far away, he could see the darkened shadows of the walls of the town, a twenty foot tall impenetrable metal barricade, or so he hoped.

Beyond that, everything was darkened, unknown, foreign. But he wasn’t going to go into this new game unprepared.

“They probably will take our weapons when we enter—” he replied. “I’d feel better if we’re not without means to protect ourselves if the need comes,” he continued, digging a hole at a tree’s root that he had found in front of a cabin. The cabin and its yard were littered with trash, junk, and rubbish. He found a black shopping bag and started wrapping the gun they’d confiscated from Aaron. Theirs were almost out of bullets. If they questioned him about it, Rick was going to feed them some stories.

He started digging at the root, lifting his gaze to Amanda—her long slender neck looking even more graceful with her hair half pinned up. She really looked beautiful, elegant in the moonlight. He gave her a half smile. “Like the new look,” he mumbled as he troweled the dirt with his fingers, still looking at her.

She looked—surprised. “You do?” she roughed out.

Rick nodded. “Yeah. Your neck—” he told her. “Looks very…tasteful. I might even have a bite.”

With a huff, she rolled her eyes, crouching down beside his knees. “Remember what I said about the PDAs, Rick?”

He laughed, his fingers still digging in the earth. “Yeah, can only suck you in the places no one but me can see—” Her hands as they joined them to help him for the task shivered for a second.

She bowed her head quickly, but Rick could see a blush raised her cheeks even under the moonlight. Rick let out a little sigh. “I—I hope you’re right about this place, Amanda—” he said after he finished digging and put the gun inside the hole they’d made, darting a look over his shoulder toward where the town lay. “Because I _really_ can’t wait, either.”

“Can’t wait for what?”

Rick turned to her and gave her another smirk. "To spend a whole night with you in the same room. _Alone_.” She swallowed lowly as he covered up the gun, catching up with him. “Remember?”

She blushed further, bowing her head before she mumbled another yeah. Taking her elbow, he drew them up. He cupped the side of her neck gently and brought her closer for a kiss, but instead of going for her lips, he softly brushed his lips against her cheek. “C’mon, let’s go,” he nudged her, urging her forward as she looked at him, stupefied.

Rick then decided he was going to have her let her hair down—in the bed. Was going to stroke his fingers through her hair as he slowly stroked himself inside her—gently, without haste, without urgency, taking his sweet time like he wanted, like he dreamed…make love to her…not in the woods, not over fallen leaves anymore or over a vanity table, but in a real bed.

If—if they could manage to get there, that was it. His eyes rose and found the impeccable line of shadows.

Alexandria.

A life of sustainability.

Well, they were going to see.

Pulling Amanda at his side, Rick tugged her hand in his, and they started walking.

# # #

Beneath the moonlight, Alexandria’s protective barricade looked even more majestic. They closed in toward the main gate. Amanda thought it was supposed to be an access gate with a security cabin before the turn to allow entry inside the town. The barrier was taken out, and in its place a rolling bed mechanism that slid a massive chain link door had been installed. It was covered with thick tarp canvas that prevented to see what lay behind. Behind the canvas, there was a flicker of light inside the security cabin which housed the watches now.

Above the gate, there was a watch post on a four-beamed platform. A man with a sniper rifle targeted at them was at the post, and he called out to his fellow resident. “Oi! Aaron!” He had a brash voice, holding a…excitement inside. “Is that you?”

On the platform, neither of them could see the night watchman clearly, but apparently, the man couldn’t see them any better, either. “Yeah, Spencer. It’s me, Aaron. We’re back. We got company, too.”

“Yeah—I can see that—” the answer came hesitantly. “How many did you bring?”

“Well, that’s a question—” Aaron answered. “Why don’t call Deanna?”

Judith sleeping in her arms, her plump hand fisted at the side of the neck, clutching her hair over her shoulder blades, Amanda waited. For a second, she almost regretted it—the way Judith searched for her hair to play…the gesture brought her comfort Amanda knew—made the baby girl less…unruly, perhaps even settled her internal clock… then Rick’s words found her too… sharing a night together in the same room… She’d gotten so caught up with finding a roof, getting themselves in, what would happen after they managed it had slipped through the cracks of their hard life.

Sometimes… before Maggie…she—she used to think about it—how it would be like living in the same place with him. Not something like a prison or the ramshackle places they had crashed in the woods, but an actual place, a real _home_ ; a real room, a real bed, a real pillow, real sheets….

As her heart skipped a beat, Amanda realized it was one of the most terrifying things she could ever think of. Them living in the same house—sharing the same bed—the same…room?

Her pulse started galloping madly as she moved the sleeping baby over to her other shoulder, and her eyes darted at him for a second as he stood there with his right hand propped on the top of the red handled machete at his slightly jutted hip, his jaw squared under his scruffy beard. Amanda saw dirt and blood stains still on his hand, on his face… Sharing the same bed with Rick—

Her thoughts suddenly came to a halt as a grinding sound roughed out in the dark. And—and the gate started moving, sliding on its hinges.

Amanda stared, as beside her, his jaw clenching further, Rick did the same. Her eyes slid to him for another glance, assessing him again another time, for different reasons… He—he quite looked like a man-beast. Inwardly, she snickered. Perhaps they really should’ve waited until dawn, get themselves clean and proper for the introduction. Arriving in the middle of the night, blood and dirt covered, looking like savages wasn’t the way to make good first impressions.

Speaking of which—her attention turned to the gate as it stopped in the hinges. They—they didn’t even make an ID challenge!

They arrived almost with two dozen people in front of their gate in the middle of night, and these people opened it to unknown threats without any real questioning. Even without setting a foot inside, Amanda understood why the town _needed_ a sheriff.

Aaron walked through the gate, holding his partner up against his side with one arm, and turning back as they stood on the other side of the gate, the recruiter beamed at them a weak smile.

“Well—” the recruiter said, raising his free arm to the side. “Welcome to Alexandria.”

His hand still propped against the machete, Rick gave the men another assessing long look before he finally took a step and started walking. A second later, they all followed him and crossed the threshold.

Around her, she could barely distinguish the dimly lit, neatly lined white houses, the cobblestoned roads, yards with colorful flower beds behind the white picket fences… Everything was quiet, the lights faintly seeping through long windows of the houses behind the porches. There were no sounds of the woods in the night; it was never this quiet in the woods… There were always winds between the leaves or some wild animals stalking… The town…it looked so…peaceful, so…beautiful in idyllic stillness, for a second it felt…wrong.

A shiver passed over her, but tugging Judith closer to her chest, Amanda suppressed it.

They were here now, and they were going to make it. In the end, they always did.

As Rick halted in front of the recruiters, Amanda stopped and stood beside him.

\---

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO yeah, this is the end of this book as they arrived in Alexandria!! Finally!  
> With a lot, a lot of baggage, and unresolved trauma and issues. He he.
> 
> The next book will cover from their arrival until the Season 6's mid season finale, the fight for Alexandria, the herd and other stuff before they all finally settle in prior to finding Hilltop. The sequel is going to be called 'On The Edge'....  
> I think what it means quite clear, heh, expect anything!  
> That being said, for the artistic and creative purposes and not to stress myself with updates I've decided to write a big chunk of the story prior to start uploading it. That means I'll be away for a while. I think I need three or so months to put everything in order before I start loading the story. So--I hope to see you with the second book then!  
> The sequel, needless to say, is going to be filled with drama, adaptation and relationship issues, and stuff! You know. It never ends in TWD! I think I will post a sort of trailer for the next book within this month, too, so expect another trailer-chapter! Fingers crossed.
> 
> Just aside note, I picture Amanda's new hair style right now like Hailey Baldwin's half-up ponytails, I always see her in a very similar daily life routine too, fashion-wise. :)
> 
> Thank you for following the story until to the very end. Your participations were a very big motivation for me, and I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I liked writing it! The every comment you made, every kudos you gave made me write faster and more :) I hope to see y'all with the second book. Until then, don't be a stranger! Hit the comment box whenever you feel like. I'll be around. :D  
> The editing still goes on, too; we're past half-way, at the 36th chapter right now...you might check it out, as well, if you would like! The narrative is much, much better now. (One of the reasons why I've decided to take a break too)
> 
> Either way, hope to see you soon!  
> Until then, be well and stay safe!  
> Cheers!


	51. Trailer Chapter for On The Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> I was feeling a bit lazy for the trailer I told I was going to, but felt motivated last night after the awesome chapters my beta reader has written for Amanda and Rick for her own story. So this happened. :)
> 
> If anyone has not noticed it yet, I already posted the first chapter of On The Edge, so you can catch up, too!
> 
> I cut scenes from the beginning of the story, from like first 5-6 chapters, and it already became like--what, 5k words! This story is gonna be long! (Not beta-read, all the mistakes and weird stuff are mine)
> 
> Enjoy!

**On The Edge**

**_Trailer - Preview_ **

The woman made a full arc to walk around the couch. Rick caught her gaze flicking towards the window, before she gave him a small smile and asked, “Shall we begin?”

Giving his family one last look, Rick walked to the armchair in front of her and sat down. _Yeah, let’s begin._

…

There was a young woman in the streets, slender, tall, beautiful, her hair fully up in a ponytail, a woman Amanda envied strongly. Though it wasn’t because of her looks or the blissful way she looked like she didn’t have a single care in the world. No. Amanda felt jealous because the woman was doing the only thing she wanted to do right now in the whole world.

Her feet barely touching at the red tartan, the woman was running.

…

Rick made a sound. “You should’ve just killed them when you captured them,” he countered, standing up. They just should kill the sonofabitches when they had the chance. Rick had learned his lessons.

A cold chill ran inside the room since the first time he’d come inside. Deanne’s face lost her mask again as she stared at him in the eye. “We don’t kill people here, Rick.”

Rick made another low sound and started walking out.

…

“I told her instead of sending them out to exile, she should’ve just killed them and be done with it—” Rick suddenly spoke again, his eyes finding hers too.

Amanda frowned. “Sending them to exile out there as best as killing them, Rick,” she said. “You know that.”

“It’s _not_ as certain as killing them, though. She shouldn’t have taken the risk.”

…

He stopped crossing the kitchen’s threshold. “We must’ve sent you food—” He shook his head. “I thought Mother already did.”

“I don’t know. Maybe she did—” Amanda replied. “I was upstairs—” She stopped not wanting to say she was with Judith. “Had stuff. Or someone came by after I left.” She cleared her throat. “It was a bit of mad day.” She paused again for a second. “Got a cake, though.”

Monroe laughed at that, shaking his head. “Let me guess. Beatrice, right?” Holding back a frown, Amanda gave him a searching look. “Bee _loves_ to make new friends,” the man remarked, his voice laden with not a quite hidden sarcasm. “And she was getting…bored.” He held his hand up, standing against the kitchen’s door. “Aiden Monroe.”

Amanda took the offered hand and gave it a quick, but a firm shake, deciding to shrug off the comment about the rich blonde. “Amanda Shepherd.”

…

“I know.” The old woman gave her a look. “I think you can help us achieve those dreams, Officer Shepherd.”

Amanda swallowed, remembering her talk with Carl and words left her. “In the prison—the place we used to have—I was trying to teach people how to survive. Protect themselves. I can still do it, I guess. Rick can help too if anyone wants to learn. And your son mentioned he wouldn’t mind a…lady among them. I can go to runs, as well, take watches.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

She just didn’t. Her eyes turned to the old woman once more. Deanna was looking at her in careful trepidation. “We can talk about it later in detail,” she said after a while. “I fear we must learn a few things, yes.”

Amanda shrugged before she answered in the same way she’d done to Rick months ago. “Luck runs out.”

A laughter came out from Deanna. “I’m a good poker player. I don’t trust luck.”

Amanda laughed back. “Me neither. It’s a fickle thing.”

…

She scanned the room, trying to find them. Rick was sitting on the floor with Judith over the rugs, his back rested at the couch. He was playing with the baby girl as Glenn sat a few feet away from them with Carol, Joan and Daryl. Noah was still with the boys as Abraham’s clan—

She quickly searched the room—a panic finding her. Beth?

Where was Beth?

She trotted to Rick. “Rick!” She breathed out, spinning around the room. “Where’s Beth?”

Reaching up to her, he held her hand. “Easy. She left with Carl to look around.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You let them?”

“Amanda—” Rick said slowly, holding back a sigh. “She just bit your head off. Give her a bit of air.”

“Rick, if I was looking for advice about dealing with acting out teenagers, you would be the last person I’d ask for his opinion.”

…

Beth threw herself over the couch. “They have a swimming pool—” she uttered as they turned to look at her. “They _really_ have a fucking swimming pool!”

“Beth!” Amanda cried out at the language, hearing the swear word, but Beth didn’t even cast her a glance. She’d heard Beth utter the f-word before a few times when she was without company, but with all of them being present—

No! 

It was wrong!

…

He made a sound, drawing his legs up to his chest and placed Judith over them. He bounced Judith on his knees, not giving her further attention as Judith cried out with happy whizzes each time Rick hopped her.

“You’re gonna make her puke—” Amanda warned.

He still didn’t give her any attention. “I told Deanna we’re together—” she blurted out. His swinging ceasing, Rick stilled as Judith softly made baby noises in protest. His head craned towards her. “She wanted to pair us as partners,” she explained. “I told her it wasn’t a good idea because we’re together.”

Jerking his head tersely in a nod, he returned to Judith. Amanda swallowed. “It’s okay, right? You’re okay with it?”

That made him react. He snapped his head again, completely stilling. “I’m not going to answer that, Amanda, because I’m tired of fighting with you.”

…

She paused for a second. “I think that tiramisu was for you.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

Her hand touched at his beard. “Either way, you should cut off this ugly thing. I can’t even see your face now.”

A small smile curved up his lips. “Missed it?”

She nodded. “Yeah—” she said, smiling back. “You have a pretty face.”

“I thought I’m supposed to be handsome.”

“Nope. You’re pretty. I like pretty.”

…

She made another tug, her hand stroking his length. His eyes cracked open and his gaze, loaded and darkened like cut gemstones found her. But there was still no crazy intensity in it. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked in a hoarse whisper like in the bathroom, nibbling his bottom lip as her hand picked up pace.

“Uh—” he rasped over her lips. “Very—” he hissed out. “Very...”

“Rick—”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m liking this dating thing.”

…

“I’m not going to school—” Beth shot back as soon as the words left her mouth.

“Yes, you are—” Amanda said. It would be good to her, being around people in her age. Getting to know new people. Beth always liked people. But the teenager shook her head.

“No. This’s ridiculous—” she repeated. “Going to a school—”

“I’m just saying go and see it—” Amanda cut her off, whisking her head away from Judith as the baby girl tried to take a hold of her hair. “They say there’s a junior class for minions too. Mika would like it. Take her there. Make friends.”

“I don’t want to make friends!”

…

Clarice turned to him. “Carl—” she rolled his name over in her mouth, her voice sounding…silky. Beside her, Beth’s brows tightened. “Your friend’s trying to get us in trouble.”

Carl took a drag from his smoke and managed to hold down a cough this time. “You’ve made us smoke.”

Ron and Clarice laughed. “Guilty as charged,” she murmured, pulling in a drag from her own smoke, her eyes on his.

Carl felt the blush coming to him, and angled his head tilting his hat… “That hat—where did you find it?” Ron asked.

“It’s my dad.”

…

Ron suddenly pointed at Beth’s right hand as she held the cigarette. “Your hand—” their new friend looked at her wound. “What happened to it?”

Beth dropped her hand and opened up her palm, the smoke still burning at the end of her fingers. She lifted her eyes at them and smiled sweetly. “This—” she remarked, her voice almost…airily. “It’s nothing. There were those men in the woods one night—” Her eyes stared at them as her smile froze on her lips. “They nailed me on a car to force Carl to rape me.”

Their smokes forgotten in their hands their new friends stared at them.

Silently, Carl took another breath from the cigarette.

…

The older Monroe shook his head. “The dead—”

Rick cut in once more, “—isn’t the only thing you should be scared of.” His eyes turned to Deanna as his tone grew heated. “People are worse. Before we came here, we found a town like this butchered, burned to the ground.” He turned fully to Deanna. “Are there any signs out there?” he questioned further.

“Rick—” Amanda tried to interject, but he stopped her raising his hand. “This is a big project. There must be ads, billboards. Are there any signs at the roads or in the towns or somewhere else?”

 _You just should’ve pulled down the signs, learned to protect yourself better,_ his own words to that monster came to him. Rick was going to listen to his own damn advice.

“Yeah. There’re those old billboards at the roadside.”

Rick nodded. “We’re gonna put them down.”

“You have a safe house?” He heard Amanda’s sigh as he continued questioning. All of them was looking at him…strange now. Even Daryl.

“Man—easy—” his brother said lowly. Rick shook his head.

“We need to arrange a rendezvous point and a safe house to retreat if things go south,” he went on, not listening to them. “Need to work on an evacuation plan—”

“Rick!” Amanda’s voice raised an octave. “One step at a time. Let’s take it… _slow_.” Rick turned to his heated eyes on her. They couldn’t take _this_ slow. He could play along with her if she didn’t want to sleep with him, but not with this. Not with their safety.

He had to keep them safe! “This’s why we’re here!” he protested. “This’s why she wanted _me_ here!”

…

Deanna’s expression sobered as she craned her neck up to see Rick’s gaze. “We like flowers—”

“You’re gonna like food more.”

…

Rick murmured something drowsily. “Cinnamon…” Amanda heard the second time. “You smell cinnamon.”

She smiled. “Liked it?”

“Hmmm—” Rick drew her closer, over his hardness as his hand folded her breast a bit tighter. “Pancakes…” he muttered the next second, “make it with cinnamon.”

She let out a low giggle. “With cinnamon. Honey?” she asked further.

“Hmm mm—” Rick murmured in answer.

A few second minutes later, Amanda heard deep, heavy steady breaths as Rick fell asleep.

…

“You wanted us to take down signs, and I agreed,” she remarked. “I gave an order to Aiden, he rounded up a team, and they’re going to proceed,” she went on as Rick’s expression closed off completely. “You don’t have any place in that.”

His squared jaw throbbed. “I need to be out there—”

“Not every time, not for every single thing,” Deanna retorted. “I wanted you, Rick, because I needed someone to help me with ruling. Leaders cannot do legwork.” He drew in a sharp breath as the word slipped inside him like a blade. _Legwork_. She wanted the woman he loved risk her life for them, and she called it _legwork_.

“Y—you send the woman I…care out there—” Rick pointed outside as he spat with venom, “and you call it _legwork_?”

Deanna looked at his anger serenely. “I send _my_ _son_ out there and I call it legwork.”

“Rick, I know she’s…special for you in a different way,” the woman stated as his eyes glared even harder. “But she’s also a capable police officer. She can stay in and train people, but I’ll also need her out.” She paused, and her eyes found his before she asked openly. “It’s not going to be a problem for you, is it?”

…

“Beth—Beth and Carl. They asked me to take them out,” she suddenly said, as Rick’s scowl returned. “I declined. But they got mad at me. _Again_.”

There was a tiredness inside her voice now, something itched him to take her in his arms, lay them over that couch. Sleep like that, his hands having a feel of her as she was pressed against his chest, cocooned in his embrace. Rick hadn’t slept like that for weeks. He wondered when he could have it again.

“Can you take them?” Amanda asked him, looking at the teenagers. “Maybe they’d cool down if you take them.”

His scowl turned to a full frown. “I’m not taking a tour in the park. They have to find something else to entertain themselves.”

“Rick—”

“Amanda—”

“—They still need to learn.” She completed as if he hadn’t cut her off.

With a sigh, Rick nodded. “Okay. Fine. We take them too.”

…

“It’s not ours, Deputy Grimes,” Clarice spoke quickly. “We don’t smoke.”

Rick eyed them carefully and decided to have a talk with Beatrice. With years long experience of dealing with perps and dealers, Rick knew when he was being lied to. He turned to Carl, deciding to have a _talk_ later too with his son. “We go outside with Daryl. Wanna come?”

“Do you go outside?” Ron asked taking a step closer. “Can you take us out, too?”

Rick let out a subsided sigh. “I can’t do it without your parent’s permission—” He slanted a look at Clarice as she opened her mouth, “—or your sister’s approval.”

Ron’s shoulder sagged. “Dad won’t let me—”

Clarice shrugged. “Beatrice might…cry if I ask.”

…

Spencer Monroe looked at the fuming woman. “Uh, your name came up this morning. You made into the list—” he explained as Rick arrived the scene. “Mother doesn’t want you to leave.”

“What list?” Daryl roughed out, pulling Joan’s at his side.

Rick understood. With a scoff, he shook his head. “Her priority list.” Deanna—the old politician wolf didn’t waste any time. “You’ve made into her first priority list, Joan,” he told the nurse.

“I did what?” Joan snapped her head at him.

“You’ve got a medical training—” Rick explained how Aaron had done for him. “It makes you too much of a valuable asset to risk outside.”

…

“Beth wanted to go with her. Amanda didn’t let her. Said she didn’t know how they worked so she couldn’t take Beth with her.” A strain entered into his voice as his boy paused. “Said she could come later.” He paused, his brows clenching under his sheriff hat in a way that reminded Rick himself. “I asked her if I could come, but she declined—” Carl rasped. “She said she couldn’t.”

“Carl—”

“Because you’re together,” he finished.

Rick understood, but he knew Carl didn’t. He knew his son was angry, barely keeping his temper in check, keeping it…civil. “You got together, and I’m the one who got punished because of it!” Carl reprimanded, his tone low, but the anger he sensed seeping in it.

“Carl—” Rick stopped walking completely. “No one’s punishing you. You have to understand Amanda—”

“Yeah, I _always_ have to understand, don’t I?” he shot back, his tone still in that low hiss. “Even though I don’t like it, I have to accept,” he went on angrily. “Soon she’s gonna start training everyone in the town, but not me, because you’re fuc—”

“Carl!” Rick’s voice raised, forgetting keeping it civil. If he ever heard that thing again from Carl’s mouth after that disastrous night—

…

Amanda stood in front of their bedroom’s door, next to the master bedroom at the end of the corner and glanced at Rick. The anxious feeling started washing over her as they looked at each other in silence. “Uh—” She made a noise and her glance turned to the door for a split second… “I haven’t slept in an actual bed for years—” she muttered.

Rick gave her a little, tired smile. “Me neither.”

Her eyes darted at him again. “Feels weird, huh?”

Rick bobbed his head lowly. “Yeah…”

Amanda sighed. “Have a good night, Rick—” She opened the door and slipped inside before he could utter another word.

…

Amanda knelt beside her on the floor and put her hand over Beth’s shoulder gently. She wasn’t sleeping. Amanda knew she wasn’t, but Beth didn’t react.

“Beth—” Amanda called out. “Honey, please.”

When Beth still didn’t react, Amanda lay down behind her over the hardwood floor and held her from behind, facing the bed. If she wasn’t going to sleep on the bed, Amanda weren’t, either.

“Go to bed—” Beth spoke lowly though as soon as she settled herself. “I know you still have muscle pain—” she continued. “Go sleep in the bed. I even found a chemise and dressing gown for you.”

Her neck craned up and Amanda saw a glimpse of the dark emerald silken flash. “Hmm mm—” she said, dipping back. “If you come up, too.”

“I’m fine here.”

“Then I’m fine here, too—” Amanda replied, nesting her head across the skinny shoulder.

“You’re trying to play with my conscience,” Beth grumbled.

Amanda made a low laughter. “Is it working?” she asked with a tone she hoped was innocent enough, still laughing.

…

Sitting on the stool Amanda had evacuated, Beth gazed at her critically. “Do you know how?”

Amanda laughed lightly. “Beth Greene, there were times I used to be a party girl.”

Beth gave her a skeptical look as Amanda picked up the blending brush. “You—partying?” she asked, suspicious.

Amanda let out another small laughter. “Yeah, it passed quickly. I got bored. Too loud. Too crowded.” She tossed her another grin. “Wanna a rave makeup?”

…

“You really look pretty, Amanda—” Beth told her. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the next room? I bet Carl is already asleep like a log.”

Amanda made a scoff. “You can say you confused the rooms, returning from bathroom. Oops.”

This time she couldn’t help it, she let out a soft giggle. “Guess I’m gonna pass it tonight.”

“It’s Rick’s loss.”

…

Loosening the belt, his hand crawled down through the folds of silken fabric and slithered between her legs.

His lips touched under her jawline as his hand caressed her wet entrance over the lace underwear. A thong. His breath hitched as Amanda made a whimper in return, so soft. Combined together, they incited the desire in him even more.

“Amanda—” Rick called out her name again. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to say he always wanted her at his side now. He wanted to say he couldn’t dream a life without her anymore. He wanted to say he loved her…

He tilted his head up for a long, long kiss, but twisting hers aside, Amanda ran away from his lips. “Rick—we—we—” she slurred the words hoarsely, gripping his shoulders. “We—we can’t.” She tightened her grip. “Judith—”

As the name left her mouth in a whisper, Rick closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

Judith.

…

“Gonna take you out for dinner tomorrow—” Rick murmured to her after they stayed in each other’s arms cuddling for a while

“ _Out?_ ”

Rick bobbed his head. “Yeah. Will make that casserole, then we will find a place and eat together.”

He felt her smile at the side of his neck. “Then it’s a date.”

“It is—” Rick agreed. “Our first date.”

She drew back an inch and pointed a finger at him. “You better ask help for that casserole, Rick—” she warned playfully. “I don’t want to get sick on our first dinner date.”

“Oh, don’t worry—” His arms tightened over her to bring her back to him. “It’s gonna be a night to remember. I promise.”

…

Amanda?” he asked her. She looked up at him. Panic clutching him, Rick lunged over the bed hurriedly, almost waking up Judy in the meantime. “Wh—what’s happened?”

Noticing his panic, Amanda rose a hand. “Nothing. I mean—” She swallowed. “Uh—Carl is with Beth—” she muttered, heading to the bed, her dazzled expression becoming more lost. “They—they’re sleeping. So—I left.”

“They—they’re sleeping—” Rick repeated. “Together?”

Somehow the notion…unsettled him. Carl and Beth were friends, but Carl always had this crush on Beth, which might’ve turned a bit more…complicated after what had happened to them in the woods.

Amanda nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah. I guess she figured out I was here so asked him to come up,” she commented, shaking her shoulders. “Uh—” She looked at him. “Can—can I stay here tonight?”

…

He tried to turn the page, but raising her hand from his chest, Amanda stopped him. “Shsss. Haven’t finished yet.” She returned her hand on him, resting it on his side, then it started moving too. It crawled toward the edge of his basic tee, and a second later slipped under his shirt. As she still read, she started gently running her fingers across his skin.

Rick all but forgot the book in his hand, forgetting to pretend to read as she stroked his stomach idly. A soft hiss escaped from him as Amanda kept reading. Rick closed his eyes. Being touched that way, that affectionate, almost mundane, but still so intimate. He almost threw the book and rolled her under him and started fucking her. No—no—making love to her, smoothly, gently.

He wanted to kiss her deeply, slowly like the first time he did. Wanted to show her like how they could do this. The need was like a craving his whole body ached for. It took everything, _everything_ in him to stay still.

…

She didn’t want to be a dressed-up doll again and played their games. The memory of the back of the hand landing on her cheek almost made her scream, or cry, another string of ungrateful bitches clanking loudly in her mind… “Then don’t—” Daryl replied with a shrug, leaning over the railings. “I go out tomorrow to put up snares. Come with me.”

The fury left her as quick as it came, and her lips twitched up an inch. “You still go out for snares?” Joan asked, taking another sip from her coffee, tilting her head aside.

The hunter shrugged. _Why not?_ Joan laughed lowly. “Old habits die hard, huh?”

Daryl shrugged again. Joan stood up. “Deanna won’t like it, you know—”

Another shrug was her answer. “See ya tomorrow then,” Joan said, smiling an inch further. She paused before she turned and started getting inside. “Thank you.”

…

Leaning in, Beth handed the frame to Carl. Twisting aside, looking up at her, Carl took the frame. “I think they belong to her. Found it in the drawer.”

Carl nodded. “I saw some frames too—”

“She’s beautiful—” Beth remarked, running a finger along the edge of silk. Once upon a time, there was a girl, and she died…

It was the same old story. The girl Beth was wearing her clothes now had died, too. She flicked her eyes over down to Carl again. “My music box—” she said, remembering. “You still haven’t given me back.” She wanted it back. Carl packed it up while they were preparing in the barn. When she asked later, he told her he was going to fix it, but it was still with him.

“I haven’t fixed it yet. I was going to ask to dad again—”

Beth cut him off. “Don’t bother. I don’t mind it being broken.” She paused. Beth didn’t mind broken things anymore. In fact, sometimes she…wanted to break things. Everything was in ruins now. Why would they care? “I just want it back,” she declared with a low but stern voice.

She wanted it. Carl shrugged. They sat in silence for a second before Carl passed her back the photo. “My mother’s photo stayed in the prison—” he said, handing her the frame. “Judith will never how she looks like now.”

The thought saddened Beth. Even though she’d lost her family, she at least would have her memories. She remembered the prison, the bracelets Maggie had done for her, her father’s Bible, her journal. Like’s Carl family photo, they’d all stayed there, now lost forever.

Sadness dissipating into a hot anger, Beth shook her head. “We should turn back—” she whispered heatedly.

…

“Do you think they’re doing it?” His head whipped up at her, Carl stared at her. Tugging a lock of hair behind her ear, feeling the unease, Beth tried to shrug. “Uh, well, she hasn’t returned yet.”

It was an…odd thought to think, but Beth couldn’t help herself. Just in the next room, Amanda and Rick could be having sex right now. She knew they’d already done it in the woods, but it felt…different in the house.

Resting his hands on his drew up knees, turning away from her, Carl bowed his head, obviously feeling the same. “Yeah.”

They passed another moment like that silently before Beth couldn’t help herself again. “Carl—” she called out to her friend. “Have you—have you ever—”

Realizing what she was asking, Carl cut her off, raising his head. “No.” His eyes found hers. “Do—do you?”

Beth shook her head slowly. “I—I passed the second phase with Zach,” she replied truthfully. “Not the whole deal.” Carl bobbed his head slowly and Beth almost told him what she’d thought in the woods before.

…

Amanda gave him a sheepish look seeing her juices still over his stubble. “Sorry—” she mumbled. “Made a mess of you—”

He chuckled lowly, his expression easing off as he smiled at her again. “Good that we’re already in shower.”

“Hmm hmm—” She tossed him a look. “And you said you were going to behave—”

Another chuckle followed as Amanda relaxed further hearing the sound. He took a step closer, his arms taking a hold of her waist as Amanda jetted water over his body. His lips were holding a playing smirk too as he dipped her closer. “I’m very behaving right now—”

She giggled, rising the shower head at his face, showering him with water. “Liar—”

He caught her wrist and turned it at her. She shook her head at the sudden watery assault, the jet hitting her face now as she retreated. Rick laughed at her reaction, still holding her wrist, walking in on her. “Rick!” she protested, grabbing his wrist back.

He let out another laughter. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Mandy—”

…

“Took you long to calm down Judith.”

“Carl—”

“I’m just trying to understand if I’ll really get kicked out of the room, dad.”

Rick fixated the teenager a cool look. “You’re as good as fifteen, already started sleeping with girls in the same bed. Perhaps you really should move out.” As the words left him, Rick also realized how true they were. Carl was a proper teenager now, sharing his personal space with a baby and with his dad didn’t sound to him like the best idea. His son needed some privacy. He took a step towards him and placed his hand on his boy’s shoulder. “Son, if you need some privacy—”

“Oh, you _really_ want to send me out of your feet!” Carl shook his hand off his shoulder with a scoff, pushing the bowl in front of him away.

“Carl!”

His son’s the same cool blue eyes found Rick. “Our photo—” he remarked with a voice as cool as his eyes. “It stayed in the prison. I want it back.”

For a second or so, Rick couldn’t understand what Carl was talking about before the penny dropped. Their family photo, the only photo Carl had from his mother. “Son—” Rick started, softening his voice. “The prison is five hundred miles away and overrun. We can’t go back.”

“It was the mom’s only photo—” his son hissed. “Her _only_ photo. Judy’s never gonna know her now, dad.” Carl’s blue stark blue eyes found his again. “But I guess you don’t care about that much _anymore_.”

…

“She’s coming with me—” Daryl roughed out, hitting the man at chest with his own. “Another word from you, I knock your teeth out.”

Amanda arched an eyebrow as Daryl _really_ looked like he could carry on with the threat. It was curious. Under his surly roughness the hunter had that simmering violent part he kept well repressed. It was as wild as Rick’s beasty side, but Amanda had never seen Daryl getting that confrontational before.

Usually, he would just send a glare, and bark some surly, sassy comment and _usually_ , it would have been enough. But not this time.

The guard shook his head. “I told—”

Daryl’s arm raised—

“Daryl!” she screamed just as the same time Rick lunged forward.

Rick grabbed the hunter’s raising arm, fingers already fisted, before it collided at the man in front of him, he apprehended Daryl into a hold. “Easy, man—” Rick bellowed, trying to drag him away.

“You can’t keep her inside!” Daryl shouted as he was still dragged by force.

“Deanna’s orders!”

“I don’t care!” Daryl broke Rick’s grip and charged at the man again, but grabbing him at his neck, Rick pulled him back and threw him aside.

“Both of you—” Rick yelled as Amanda moved to Joan. “Stop!”

“Joan—” Amanda turned to her friend. “What are you doing here?” she asked with a rough whisper, tossing the nurse a terse glance.

Three days! Three fucking days! They just couldn’t last even three days before things became…complicated again!

“That’s enough—” They all turned to face the town’s leader. Deanna fixed at all three men a look. “No one leaves today. Aiden—” She looked over at his son. “I want your report on my desk in the evening.” Her eyes shifted to the guard. “You—get back to your post.”

She turned to them after then. “All of you, go back to your houses. Rick—come with me. It appears we need to have another talk.”

...

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might post the second chapter too this weekend. I still feel the buzz, and I already almost finished the first arc, already planned in details the second one chapter by chapter, and made the outline of the whole story's construction. I've been busy, heh :) 
> 
> Hope you liked the trailer... Hope to see you over On The Edge!
> 
> Take care, and be well. Kisses and hugs.


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